


Furihata Kouki's a Yaoi Manga Artist

by TakahashiNana



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: But lots of fanboying, Fudanshi Kouki, I don't really know how this is going to be..., M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-05-02 06:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 158,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5238461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakahashiNana/pseuds/TakahashiNana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Furihata Kouki is currently drawing yaoi manga as a side job. It's not a bad job--it's just that it comes with side effects. First, he now sees yaoi everywhere and is using his basketball acquaintances as inspiration; second, now he takes strange interest in men, especially Akashi Seijuurou.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Furiha Kou, the Yaoi artist

**Author's Note:**

> So I had an idea but doesn't quite know how to make a plot out of it just yet...I think I'll just be making up the plot as I carry on with my writing. Now that I'm posting this and writing a summary for it I feel like this is awfully shoujo like...

Chapter 1:

Everybody on the Seirin basketball team knew Furihata Kouki was a struggling student. His family wasn't wealthy, and his mother wasn't healthy either. So in addition to school and basketball, he also had a side job. The team pitied the poor boy--it was a awful lot for a freshman in high school to face, and they were very considerate towards his needs. Sometimes when the pressure caught up to the first year, Riko would actually break her rigid rules and let him skip practice once in a while to catch up with himself. 

Nobody ever asked the Freshman what this "side job" was. Even his closest friends, Kawahara and Fukuda, only know that it's not a very physically demanding job, has relatively flexible times, and pays fairly well. Does that sound suspicious? Of course it does. But no one wants to ask more, in case they might hurt the poor boy, as if he wasn't already skittish enough.

And Furihata was never more glad for that. You see, he is a part-time manga artist, and not just any manga artist.

\--

Furihata Kouki draws Yaoi Manga as a side job, and has been since he joined the Basketball team. Most of them focused on romance, but almost every single one of them had a full-blown sex scene which he described in such lurid detail that sometimes surprised even himself.

You see, as a child he was always good at expressing himself and capturing life's moments with pencil and paper, and his whole family decided he definitely had talent. Of course, like any Japanese youth, the most prevalent form of art available to the brown-haired boy was manga, and when he was in Fourth grade of elementary school he drew a manga-style picture of a couple he saw in a movie his mother liked. The teacher was very impressed with his lines and choices of color, and decided to convince her husband, a shounen manga artist, to give him extra lessons on drawing manga.

Under his guidance, Furihata's skills improved. By the time he graduated elementary school, he could already help his sensei finish a couple of his backgrounds, and by the time he finished Middle school, Furihata Kouki can help finish his sensei's mangas and have completed a couple of independent works, though none of them were published. He'd gotten especially good at drawing muscles and the male body, thanks to the genre of manga his sensei drew.

It's thanks to his skills that Furihata managed to not be completely useless. When his mother fell ill and father was coming back home famished just to keep the family together, Kouki knew he had to do something. He tried a couple physical jobs, but soon he decided that he would put this talent in art to good use.

His sensei managed to get him an interview with a manga publishing company, and that's how he got this part time job. But even after he had gotten a position as a part-time manga artist, he still didn't know which genre to pursue--he definitely didn't want to be in the same genre as his sensei, because one, he doesn't want to become his sensei's competitor, and two, both his sensei and the agent had remarked that his style was a bit too delicate and pretty for a shounen artist.

So, of course, Furihata had to sit in his class while thinking about all the roads he could take: Shoujo? No, he can't possibly draw such cheesy situations, plus the competition was rough and the demographic hard to please; Mystery? No, he'd pee himself while thinking up plots; Slice of life? Nah...

The idea of drawing something in the R18 genre came to him after a glorious wank. It wasn't easy, the first time: drawing these things in your bedroom while your ill mother occasionally popped in to gently smile and bring you snacks was surprisingly...difficult, to avoid being like Izuki-sempai. But Furihata managed to bite his tongue and drew it.

When he sent his first hentai draft to his editor, Seto Momoko-chan, she shook her head (without so much as a blush) and said to Furihata: "I'm sorry, Furi, but you are awful at drawing female bodies--the girl wasn't cute at all, her boobs were flying in unnatural directions, and during the sex scenes the girl looked more like a guy that grew a pair of mammalian glands. The men were lovely, though" she looked at him with a leery smile, "They had well-defined, but not gorilla-like bodies, and their faces--gosh, they were so sexy yet elegant-looking even though this is a porno. The penises were well and realistically drawn, too."

And then, she said the sentence that eventually sent him to the dark side: "I kind of wish that this was a Yaoi, Furi."

After some awkward moments, Furihata Kouki figured out what "Yaoi" is, and he had blushed and thrashed around for half an hour. He didn't want to draw two guys having sex! He likes girls, for god's sake! Where did Seto-chan get the idea that he would be good at this?! Yet, when he heard his mother cough again, his heart welled in guilt and his resolve hardened, and, after some very heavy research and experimenting with himself, he drew his first Yaoi manuscript.

Seto-chan's face when she read that manuscript was one of entire strange enjoyment (complete with nosebleeds and intense blushing), and soon, with a few minor edits and fixes, Furihata Kouki's first yaoi manga was published under the name Furiha Kou. And he became incredibly popular, partly due to his unique, elegant, and realistic style of drawing and narration, and partly due to the fact that he's a guy--not many guys are in this business, you see.

He's pretty popular (contrary to him in real life), and makes good money. This made his family, as well as Furihata himself happy. It's just that, well, whenever his mother or his sibling asked to read one of his mangas, he has to nervously laugh and think of a way to not let them do that.

\--

It's not a bad job, not at all, but it came with its side effects.

First, Furihata Kouki now had a strange ability to see hints of male homosexuality everywhere he went. He always awkwardly blushes whenever Kise visited Seirin and screamed "Kurokocchi"; he grinned to himself when Takao wrapped his arms around Midorima and called him "Shin-chan"; he nearly freaked out when Murasakibara rubbed Kuroko's head and called him "Kuro-chin" ("Don't let him do this Kuroko you belong to Kagami" he mentally screamed); and he always found the light and shadow thing going on between Kagami and Kuroko (and apparently went on between Aomine and Kuroko, which is kind of ironic since Aomine looked more like a black mass than Kuroko did) the most blatant form of flirting. I mean, come on, is that something you just randomly say to your friend? "I will be the shadow to your light"? These two apparently had a vow about this, too--are they, like, married?

His first real manga series was based on the "sexual tension" between Kagami and Kuroko, and man, was it well-received. Every volume after the first was sold out the day it came out, and it somewhat became an overnight sensation. He could literally walk into a classroom and hear his female classmates talk about his work: the quiet, polite, yet blunt seme who has a low sense of presence and the innocently passionate uke who pretends to be tough but is just a tiger-shaped kitten in the end (because Furihata honestly felt that Kuroko would be the one more in charge of the relationship if he wasn't so dang short compared to Kagami) meet each other in a dark alleyway after school and fell in love after the first meeting, with the uke declaring that he wants to defeat the gang that rules Tokyo, the Generation oh Assholes, and the seme proclaiming that he will become the uke's shadow and follow him wherever he will be.

He didn't put THAT much of his experiences in there--he only borrowed Kuroko and Kagami's personalities and kind of their names, but hearing his work so...fangirled over filled him with a strange mix of pride and guilt. Some of his fans get curious and send him lots of fan letters asking whether or not the light and shadow were based on actual people, for they feel that the interactions are too real to be purely fictional, to which Furihata can only chuckle nervously and reply in half-truths.

After the success of "Shadow and light", Furihata had picked up a horrible habit of finding inspiration for his manga among his basketball acquaintances. Perhaps it's the adrenaline, but he always felt that there were more "homoerotic" moments in sport clubs, and he knew he wasn't the only one who thought so. So he went down the dark road and is now using his teammates and the Generation of Miracles for inspiration (The GoMs were definitely all gay--their hair colors make up the gay pride flag for god's sake, and Furihata so far hasn't seen a single interaction among them that would refute this theory).

Speaking of the GoMs, here comes his second side effect:

He now took a strange interest in men. He would now look at some men and think: "Man that guy looks so good in bed", and one such man is Akashi Seijuurou, captain of the Rakuzan basketball team. There was something regal and elegant in his bright red hair, pale skin, and his cat-like eyes that seemed to be able to command all living beings. Not to mention his red and golden irises that would make anyone's heart skip a beat--in fear or in love--and knees weak.

The problem is...Furihata only met Akashi once, and not under pleasant circumstances--Furihata was scared crapless on the stairs, and fell butt first when he had to go up against him. Not to mention their great difference in status, both on-court and off-court: the Akashi family is one of he most prestigious in Japan, and is famous (or perhaps infamous) for their emotionlessly strict and traditional upbring. Akashi Seijuurou himself, as he heard from Kuroko, excelled in everything he did, not only basketball, but in school, student council, business dealings, and...you get the point.

Furihata's beginning to think that he is seriously masochistic, obsessing so much over a male he only saw for no more than 3 hours and know for a fact that he is not worthy of (and his love interest--well, let's say he doesn't have the most loveliest of tempers and personalities). The concept of them ever being together sounds like something that can only come out of an overimaginative fangirl's mind, but Furihata is not a man who has complete rein of his emotions, and he now finds himself pining over the redhead everyday, even though nothing could ever lead them to each other.

Furihata Kouki is not a smart man.


	2. To go or not to go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. My. God. I did not expect so much positive feedback! Thank you to everyone that reviewed!
> 
> I inserted an OC into this--hope you guys don't hate her. (NO, she is not a love interest of anyone. Her sole purpose is to get guys together.)
> 
> This chapter seems kind of long, but just a warning--don't expect any set length. I'll write as much as I think is fit for the plot progression, but that doesn't correspond with any set length, sorry D:.

Groaning and stretching out his back after a long day of drawing, Furihata sighed as he closed his drawing book for the day and decided to do the English homework he had been putting off for way too long.

This particular story is a comedy regarding a blond model's love for his grumpy faced manager who always wore knee socks underneath his suit to warm his legs and protect them. Furihata just couldn't help manga ideas popping up into his head as he observed the way the Kaijou captain watched over everyone on his team like a mother hen. He reckoned that that's the personality a manager for a famous model, one like a certain Kise Ryouta, should have.

By the way, Kasamatsu definitely treats Kise differently from how he treats his other teammates, and not in the "you-are-our-ace" kind of way Coach and Captain treats Kagami. Whenever the captain glanced at the blond (which was quite often), his eyes were full of trust and pride, but also with a tinge of gentle affection mixed with worry if Kise happened to be a bit hurt. Furihata also noticed, from the bench, that whenever Kise reciprocates these glances Kasamatsu would turn his head away and pretend to occupy himself with something else while the blond just beamed with a confident smile that almost looked like a smirk. It's only after the blond stopped looking at the 3rd year, the captain would turn his head back and steal a quick glance before doing what he had to do.

At Seirin's last game against Kaijou, Furihata noted that Kise was putting his hands on his captain an awful lot for a teammate, and on very...interesting places too. After the game Kise had given his captain a pat on the back that then slid down the shorter's waist and rested comfortably on his hips. The shorter had looked up at the blond with surprise, perhaps due to the intimate contact, and the model replied with a wink and a quirk of his lips.

The captain's face flushed and he said something with a pair of enlarged eyes and furrowed eyebrows, but he never rejected the intimate position or tried to move away from it. The pair conversed some more, and Furihata's observation of them ended with Kise laughing and leading Kasamatsu in a direction different from that of the team while having his arm wrapped around the older boy.

"They are totally sleeping with each other." Furihata rolled his eyes and whispered under his breath as his mind tried to focus on his assignment, "even if they didn't have anal penetration yet, they probably touched each other's dicks on more than one occasion, judging from how familiar Kise was with him."

But once again, as far as Furihata knew, Kise Ryouta just couldn't seem to keep his hands off anyone. If you're dating someone, you wouldn't go out of your way to act intimate with another person in front of them, would you? The way Kise happily yapped like a dog whenever Kuroko was near with his team made even Furihata a bit uncomfortable watching them. He can't understand why Coach and Kasamatsu weren't freaking out like he was--it's definitely not normal to kiss your ex-teammate's cheek and rub your face against it, isn't it?

...Or is he instigating a threesome that Kasamatsu's too shy to speak up about?

Is Kasamatsu the type to want a threesome? Furihata silently contemplated. While Kise's the type to attract attention wherever he goes, Kasamatsu seems like the very traditional type who prefers to keep his personal matters to himself. But once again, if Kasamatsu's willing to date a model, not to say a male model that's two years his junior, he isn't a particularly traditional one, is he? Or is his doting love for the blond enough to make him break his rules?

The thought made Furihata smile. But if they were to have a threesome, Kuroko perhaps isn't the best candidate--He already has someone, and Furihata doubts Kagami will be okay with that. Kasamatsu's impression of Kuroko can't possibly be so lovely as to be willing to be naked in front of him. Also, they will perhaps need someone who's powerful and experienced in this that Kasamatsu. Perhaps someone like Kise...?

Daydreaming, Furihata cursed under his breath as he misspelled the word "misspelled" on his English homework. He had written it in Pen too...damn it. This was the eighth mistake he made in the span of five sentences, and Furihata sighed as he crossed out the word. It wasn't as if he's a pedant like a certain green-haired shooter who's totally in a relationship with his point guard, but he just likes to think of himself as being somewhat aware of his surroundings, unlike a certain redhead on his basketball team. 

Deciding that he would make his English teacher's life at least a little bit easier, Furihata decided he would stop speculating the relationship status of his basketball acquaintances and start legitimately doing his homework. 

\--

The next day, Furihata sat in a neighborhood cafe with the sunlight shining through the window. The cafe's main colors were Pink and Purple, with minimal amounts of white, gold, and green to highlight certain parts of the decor. For example, the carpet beneath his feet was pink, but there were little patches of gold and white to create the illusion of pearls and gold on the ground, and a faux pink rose was sitting in a white vase on the table between him and a girl with brunette pigtails. They both sat on pearly white single-person sofas that were fluffed up to resemble clouds.

"Oh my god that's so cute~!" the girl squeeled as she stirred her latte.

No, Furihata's not on a date with this girl, despite what the fluffy atmosphere would suggest. She's just his female friend that's meeting with him on weekends. Her name's Takatsuki Koneko, and she actually goes to Seirin too, but since her friends does not like his friends (She's apologized countless times and tried really hard to make them get along, all to no avail); his friends will probably think they're dating; and they have no classes together they opted to meet outside of school most of the time.

Furihata actually liked Koneko once. The girl he was talking about at the rooftop was actually her, and he didn't lie: Koneko did tell him that she liked guys who are good in something, but she never said she won't date a guy that wasn't. In fact, Koneko had cheerfully agreed to go out on a date at this exact cafe the day before the scene on the rooftop. It's just that...well...

\--

"uhh...Takatsuki-chan, w-what are some of your interests?" Furihata managed to choke out, his hand shaking as he gripped his drink whose name he doesn't even remember at the moment. Have to make conversation, have to make conversation, have to make conversation...

"Aww, don't be so nervous, Furihata-kun." Koneko chuckled as she propped her head up with her left land. She gently pulled on one of her earrings and she laughed: "Girls aren't aliens, you know? Just talk to us normally and don't purposefully be a jerk and we won't hurt you."

"Uh...sure...So what do you like? You are really pretty, so I assume you're...uhh...into modeling?"

Koneko pulled back and made a disgusted face: "Yuck, no! I mean, they look pretty but damn, imagine walking in these heels, that's gotta kill their foot." Koneko pulled her face into a smile as she, presumably, noticed Furihata about to curl into a ball, "I'm actually more of an artist--I'm in the art club, you see. I also am a big manga and anime fan."

Great! Opening for conversation: "Oh, I like art too! E-Especially manga. I actually draw some of my own."

"Really?" Koneko lifted her head to smile a sweet smile, appearing genuinely interested, "Do you have some of your work available?"

Furihata nodded, pulling out his phone. Most of his work was drawn by hand, but sometimes he draws with a tablet, gift of his sensei at his last birthday, and he keeps some of the electronic artworks on his phone. He lets out a relieved sigh as Koneko actually seems to take interest and is impressed by the work she sees. Yay, Furihata Kouki not embarrassing himself in front of a female, even though Koneko being easy to talk to has something to do with that too...

"Wow, you really have talent! Better than some of the manga that's being sold in bookstores actually! Are you going to become a pro after you finish school? If you don't that would be a pity."

"In f-fact, I've been studying after a sensei and is thinking of publishing some of my own work..."

"Really? What genre? Shounen? Shoujo? Mecha?"

"A-actually, I don't know. I don't want to go into shounen because I'll be competing with my sensei, but apparently I can't really draw females, so that blocks out anything involving romance..."

"Well there's always Yaoi." She laughed, almost spilling her drink onto her coffee-colored skirt, "I'm sorry, don't mind me."

"N-no, actually, I always wanted to ask somebody about this, but no one around me knew..." Furihata asked, "When I showed my editor my manuscripts for a--romance manga, she mentioned that I can't draw girls and that she 'wished it was a yaoi instead'. Takatsuki-chan, do you by any chance know what Yaoi--?"

Before he even got to finish, Koneko had done a spit-take onto the table. She almost violently pulled back as she laughed for a good five minutes, sometimes trying to say something but failing due to uncontrollable laughter. Furihata was speechless, already large eyes growing larger and rounder with each passing second.

Eventually, the girl stopped. She gave him a mysterious smirk. "Oh, I'll show you Yaoi." She promised. 

\--

And show him she did. They went straight to the bookstore and she had a bit too enthusiastically shoved about ten hardcore yaoi mangas in his face, and even while he was crying "stop it", Koneko offered to pay for the several books of yaoi. Of course Furihata couldn't let a woman do that, so he paid for half of it, but in the end she gave all the mangas to him.

"You're the one that's going to be drawing." She reasoned, smile beaming. 

Later that day, Koneko had somehow gotten his phone number and texted him that night saying she had a wonderful time but perhaps they weren't right for each other. Furihata wholeheartedly agreed with that--When the vast majority of your first date is spent looking at gay sex and neither of your felt tingling in your lower bits due to each other, you know there is no chemistry between you two. But Furihata and Koneko, for some reason, have remained friends, and now they frequently conjure together to talk about their observations regarding the male population around them and provide inspiration for Furiha Kou's next project.

Koneko happens to like basketball as well--she was the manager for her middle school's basketball team, but after getting into high school she decided to focus on her studies and develop some other hobbies. Nevertheless, she goes to the vast majority of Seirin's basketball games and notices the yaoi moments just like Furihata does, if not more. 

"I knew just by looking at his photos that he prefers the sausage, but my stupid sisters keep on fangirling over him--like they could get with Kise Ryouta even if he likes women, which I doubt..." the girl beamed, resting her head on her delicate hand, "I totally saw what you mean, though! At that last game the captain was definitely trying not to bury his head in his lover's arms and cry when they were a couple points behind you guys!"

"And Kise was totally making bedroom eyes the entire time--well with those eyes anytime he looks at something it looks like bedroom eyes, at least to me..."

"Aww, Furi you're still so innocent." A laugh, "You call that bedroom eyes? Have you seen the way Murasaki-something looks at that hot emo guy from Yosen? That's bedroom eyes!"

"But his expression's like so lazily predatory! He looks at Himuro-san like he wants to eat him up, which--" a faint blush spread across Furihata's cheeks as he smiles, "I suppose that's kind of sexy as well, but it's different from Kise-kun's! Murasakibara-san is like 'I'm a beast and I'm cherishing you even while I screw you quick and hard and bites you' while Kise-kun's like 'I'll give you loving sex until you go insane from the pleasure'!"

"Ooh, speaking of beasts, did you see Aomine Daiki in the crowd? He was staring at the game so intently that he's ignoring just about everything from his teammates, including that pink-haired girl that's with him!" Koneko's smile spread wider,"I wonder who he's looking at?"

"I think he's looking at Kuroko? After all they used to be such good friends--or 'friends'...Oh my god Koneko-chan, do you think that Aomine and Kuroko used to be together?!" Furihata said, a bit too quickly, "Kuroko did say something about Aomine being his previous light, after all!"

"Maybe! Could it be..." Koneko's eyes went wide with shock at the idea, "Kuroko and Aomine used to be together in middle school, but Aomine cheated on him and left Kuroko-kun broken hearted?!"

"But who would he cheat on Kuroko with? Someone else in the rainbow squad?" Furihata's voice became a little higher, his brows furrowed as his mind went over a list of possible suspects, "Kise?"

"EHH?!" Koneko just about screamed, "WHAT? WHY?!"

"Kuroko mentioned that Aomine's the reason that Kise started to play basketball, and he also mentioned on our first game against Kaijo that he sees Kise as a rival because he used to be Kise's mentor--but could it also be because he was the person Aomine-kun cheated on him with?"

"And even though Kise visits Kuroko so much Kuroko-kun never talks to him because he's mad!"

"Kise was actually subsequently hurt by Aomine as well, which is why he turned to Kasamatsu!" 

"Aomine-kun then regrets his decision and that's why he was looking at Kise so longingly at the match!"

"It's a love triangle!" they simultaneously screamed with a sparkle in their eyes. Furihata brought out his notepad of Yaoi and scribbed the idea down with a giant blush while Koneko violently shot her body backward as she screamed, hands on either side of her face with her eyes closed.

\--

The entire cafe turned to look at them awkwardly. Their elderly waitress was standing by them, and has been for a while, eyes squinting suspiciously behind brown glasses with a frown at the two youngsters as she held Furihata's drink. She silently handed the drink to Furihata, and silently judged them while both of them grimaced apologetically.

"Speaking of Kuroko and Kagami, I can't believe you finished your series a month ago and they still haven't resolved their sexual tension." Koneko rolled her eyes as she sighed, "seriously, are they dense, or are they purposefully flaunting it to tease you guys?"

"Honestly, I think it's a combination of both." Furihata rolled his eyes in a similar pattern, "Knowing Kagami, it's the first; know Kuroko, it's the second."

Not stopping her sighing, the brunette girl turned to stare pitifully at Furihata: "I still can't believe you made Kagami the uke." the girl pouted, eyebrows drooping in a fake teary face, "can't you make an omake where Kuroko's the cute little uke that he is?"

Furihata raised one eyebrow in disapproval of the idea:"Are you kidding me?! If I switch up the heights it will be plain as day who I based this story off of. How many people do you think have split eyebrows in this world? Plus," he stretched out his neck in mock indignation, "Kagami's a total uke! And don't lecture me about the height rule--as we have seen with the carrot and his birdie, height don't mean a thing when you're a blushing tsundere. Kagami's so dense and so innocent and a total housewife! He'll probably blush, deny, and try to fap his feelings away unless someone evil like Kuroko taints him with the pleasures of sex and takes control of their relationship!"

"But he's a total beast!" Koneko argued, leaning forward to make herself appear more righteous, "You know what they say about muscular men--they can't control themselves. He might let Kuroko lead their relationship but when the 'important' time comes he won't hold back, and his animal urges will take over, and Kuroko will have no choice but to surrender to his lover!"

"But! Kagami's pure brute force while Kuroko's good at misdirecting that force! Kuroko can definitely knock him over!"

"Hmm...true, but there are lots of cases where the uke's the S but he's still a uke. Ahh! Imagine Kuroko-kun dressed in nothing but black leather boots and a military hat, holding a whip while riding a handcuffed Kagami and trying to hold his own moans as Kagami's large stick penetrates him. Perhaps Kuroko will also do some dirty talking, just to hype up the tension?"

"Ehh?! You think Kuroko is the type that's into S&M? He's so polite, even though on several occasions I've realized that he isn't a sweetheart..."

"Huh...I don't know, but I really like the concept of the usually quiet Kuroko being really kinky in bed..." Koneko's green eyes lit up, "Perhaps you could make an omake where there's a crossover between 'Shadow and Light' and 'My sadistic sempai' and Shadow-kun gets awakened watching the kouhai get hit by a pineapple!"

"Oh oh, how about the sadistic sempai throws a pineapple at his seme, I mean, kouhai, and the kouhai says to shadow-kun that he doesn't mind and shadow-kun wants to bring a bit of pain to their pleasurable nights? Oh my god that's amazing!" Furihata's honey eyes lit up similarly as he scribbled something on his notepad, "I'm so doing that!"

Koneko grinned, her latte already going half cold due to her neglect in favor of conversing with Furihata. "Glad to be of help." She said, "Say, are you familiar with the Kyoto Yaoi con?"

"Yeah, I've received a couple invitations from it. I don't think I'll be going--you know I can't show my face in public." Furihata shook his head, focusing on his own drink: bubble milk tea with extra pearls in there for good measure. "The school's fine with it, but imagine my friends' reaction..."

"Oh come on! It's an event funded by a pretty big corporation, and there will be lots of other senseis! I heard it's going to be more lavish and bigger than all the previous Yaoi Cons combined!"

"B-but Kyoto's so far away, a-a-and I have school!" 

The girl sitting across from him sighed, and she squints her eyes as she crosses her arms in mild indignation: "Furi, don't lie to me--I know you're reluctant because your crush is in Kyoto. Honestly, just confess to him!" Furihata was about to protest when Koneko shot out a finger at his forehead, "even if he rejects you, you at least have an answer and can move on. Plus, I think if he rejects you he's missing out. You're intelligent, good at athletics, and an amazing artist who more likely than not makes more than he does."

Koneko goes to most of Seirin's battles, but one which she didn't go to was the final battle of winter cup between Rakuzan and Seirin, so she doesn't know about Rakuzan's redhaired captain and how Furihata had melted into a pile of goo just by his presence and his oh-so-lovely eyes. For some reason, she did found about about his crush on him, and had snappily made fun of him for it since she knew.

"I...I know, but I have a sense of shame!" Furihata yelped, burying his face in his arms, "w-what if he's there?"

"Where did that sense of shame go when you came up with ideas for your mangas?" He can hear Koneko rolling her eyes, "Honestly, just talk to your editor, go to Kyoto, confess and if he agrees, great, if he doesn't, meet some fans and make some friends!"

No, Koneko. It's not that easy. You can turn two guys who were both into you gay for each other, I can't.

\--

To go or not to go, that is the question.

Furihata mulled over the question as he ran five laps for his basketball practice. He had called his editor, Seto-chan, after the meeting with Koneko a week earlier and she said that if he wanted to go promote his new series "My manager can't be this cute!" and do a signing for "Shadow and Light" and the school's okay with it, the company will cover everything and he will receive half of all the profits of his works. Sounds really lovely, he had said.

But going public would mean that he would open himself up to the public eye, which would not only lead paparazzis on, but could also affect his school career adversely. Not to mention the fact that a certain basketball powerhouse also resides in Kyoto, and Furihata isn't quite in the mood to see the captain yet.

He had conversed with the Principal, and he had agreed to his potential taking a week off from school for a public event. However he warned Furihata to not expose his identity as a student. "I don't want any paparazzis to show up in my school, understand?" He had said.

Oh boy, Furihata's not sure he can do that.

"Hey Furi, are you okay?" Kawahara ran up beside him, putting his hand on his back, "You look a little under the weather."

"Oh am I?" Furihata half-laughed. 

"Yeah, and you look a bit worried about something too. Want to talk about it?" Fukuda ran up to his other side.

Completing each other's sentences, huh. Since when were Kawahara and Fukuda this close to each other? Of course, they were all good friends since middle school, but...No Furihata Kouki, you stop fantasizing right now. You stayed up until two o'clock yesterday finishing your draft for "My manager can't be this cute", you don't need more ideas.

"Furi, is it something about that job of yours?" Kawahara looked at him sympathetically, and Furihata wanted to bury his head in his friend's arms and sob whenever Kawahara gave him that face. It was so gentle yet it seemed to understand everything that went on in his mind. 

"Well...kind of." Furihata nervously laughed. 

"Furi." Fukuda said with some weight, "tell us."

"Don't wo--"

"Furi." Fukuda and Kawahara said simultaneously, stopping their jogging to look sharply at him. "Is your workplace putting too much work on you? Taking advantage of your situation?" Fukuda stared at him, "I knew it...Furi, you could have told us..."

"No!" Furihata waved his hands, "I'm not being overworked! I just have a big decision that I'm not sure how to make!"

"Really?"

"Really."

Both of his friends sighed and looked at him worriedly, even though they seemed to believe Furihata: "Ya sure you don't want to talk to us about it?"

"...Yeah." 

He can talk to his two best buds with just about anything, but how is he supposed to explain that he's conflicted over a public appearance in the city where his male crush resides?

After looking into each other's eyes for a while (No Furihata Kouki Don't get ideas they're your two best friends), They both showed him a gentle smile, and Fukuda wrapped his hands around Furihata while Kawahara ruffled Kouki's head. "Well you know we'll always be here for you, Furi. We'll love you no matter what happens!"

"I know." Furihata's lips curled up into a smile. He stretched out his arms to envelop all three of them in a group hug, and began laughing when Fukuda's hair awkwardly ruffled again his neck. The coach barked at them to stop, but they didn't. As they resumed their previous activities, the laughter rung throughout the school grounds in the lavender dawn as they carried on with their practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, it's been a while since I wrote fanfiction, and I welcome and critiques, feedbacks, or advice! Thank you for reading my humble fanfiction!


	3. Family Knows Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this one was looong. I did not expect this chapter to be this long, and I'm afraid this chapter might not be as entertaining as the other chapters were--I wanted to squeeze in some characterization for Furi as well as some things about his relationship with his mother and his teammates.
> 
> *I had actually dropped a little reference in this chapter, but you don't have to notice it or anything--it was just fun to write*
> 
> I was actually a bit afraid that I didn't do a good job of description here, but I can't make it better so here you go! If you have any advice for me to improve, criticisms, suggestions, or just any comments, please don't be afraid to drop one!

Chapter 3.

When you first walk into Furihata Kouki's room, you would have no idea that it belonged to a 16 year old boy. The walls were the typical pale white of Drywall, and the floor was made of dark, slightly chapped wood that would definitely cut your foot if you stepped on them without any foot covering. A lightbulb hung from the ceiling, blinding light partially covered by a white origami box that Kouki made with some plastic sheets.

The room was simple, consisting of only a couple pieces of furniture, but everything was diligently kept clean by Kouki everyday. 

His single bed stood against the wall, neatly folded with sunny yellow pillows, white bedsheets, and a warm quilt his grandmother made. Kouki remembered being a child and quietly sitting by his grandmother's side as the elderly woman sew square after square of delicate quiltwork. He never knew what these little squares of beauty were for until they were connected to each other and formed a beautiful, elaborate collection of fabrics, patterns, and colors. 

Kouki's grandma died three days after she finished the quilt, and nobody in the family wanted to touch it, not to say use it for fear that it was cursed. It would be such a waste for a piece of beauty like this to be hidden away in a closet, so Kouki decided to use it on his bed. 

So far the quilt hasn't brought him any bad luck--in fact the only luck the quilt seemed to bring were good luck: Kouki's team won the winter cup, and Kouki himself got a pretty good job that supported the family. Grandmother's daughter, Kouki's mother eventually tolerated it--she probably wasn't that against it in the first place. After all, she loved grandma's work just as much, if not more than he did.

Before she got sick, Kouki's mother was a dressmaker, and she made Kouki's sisters the cutest dresses and Kouki lots of handsome outfits that lie in his heavy oak closet opposite from his bed. In fact, just about all of Kouki's clothing were handmade by his mother, the only exception being his uniform. "Young people these days--Mass-produced clothing have no taste!" She grumbled when Kouki told her that most of his classmates wore clothing bought from a store, and insisted on making all of his clothing. For years he had dreaded the question: "Where did you get that [article of clothing] from?". Eventually he just told them the truth, and everyone had accepted it with a hint of jealousy in their eyes.

In his closet also lays a handsome suit, complete with a tie, that was also made by his mother. When Kouki complained that he'll never need to wear a suit, his mother just sent him a cryptic smile that said: "Oh you'll need it. "

He doesn't understand his mother at times.

Speaking of the closet, it was a wave-like structure made of dark wood with tiny golden decorations attached to it. It has a see-through glass door, and was originally supposed to be a large display case of some sort. When Kouki picked it off the streets, the wooden furniture was probably thrown away due to its loss of support for the inner shelves that used to hold up rows and rows of expensive china. Kouki had deemed it a pity, for the case was large and could still be useful. So he begged his father, a carpenter, to haul it home, and together the father and son securely attached some rods to put clothing on and it became a closet for Kouki's room.

Next to the closet was a squat, but long bookshelf. It was a long, rectangular frame with square holes in them to put books through or to put boxes filled with stuff into. It was painted a woody color, which contrasted nicely with the white wall and fit into the general scheme of the room he tried to create perfectly. 

Very far away from both the closet and the bed is his wooden desk, which his mother actually bought for him with her now-greatly-reduced salary. He had protested but accepted the gift when he realized that his mother had lost the receipt.

The walls don't have any posters on them, but the room was littered with plants, decorations, and memorabilia. For example, on the top of his horizontal bookshelf was a little brick flower pot painted with black patterns that has a little cactus growing in it. By his desk is a large pot of bamboo in a white-and-blue pot, and on it hung a little railroad ornament that was given to him by Fukuda. Another basketball ornament given to him by Kuroko hung from bamboo, and various art projects from his youth sat in a line on the surface of his bookshelf, away from his work. Also on his bookshelf sits a red-maned lion given to him by Kagami, who apparently had some luck with an arcade game. Everything was clean, and all worn clothing was placed in a plastic bin to be washed.

A couple weeks ago a friend of father's came in and saw the arrangement. He immediately recognized some of the things as being from an expensive brand, and was shocked to hear that it was Kouki's room, not his sister's. "Why, your son has good taste!" He exclaimed.

...Man, "having good taste", sounds like a word you should use to describe a perfect wife candidate, not a hard-working high school boy. 

It's just that Furihata doesn't believe in carelessly using things and throwing it away just because it was partly broken; he believed in repairing and getting the most out of everything. He insisted on getting the best things, but also insisted on giving them the best care.

Everytime Fukuda and Kawahara visited Furihata in his abode, they say: "Wow, you actually make me feel guilty about not cleaning my room.", to which Furihata blushes madly and only half-heartedly try not to smack them in their faces.

\--

Bopping his head along to the cheery music from his headphones, Furihata doodled on his tablet, moving the sensor pen to idly select colors and draw a couple lines. 

He relaxed himself while he subconsciously tried to decide whether to go to the Kyoto Yaoi Con or not. The monetary compensation as well at the chance to visit Kyoto and meet his fans face to face for free was a very deliciously tempting offer, but can he risk the chance of being recognized and discovered by the paparazzi? Perhaps he can wear the hat his sister Megumi made for him last week--she's currently eight years old, and his mother was teaching her how to knit; she's remarkably talented for her age, but the hat was a bit...amateur looking with various strands hanging out and several holes in the fabric. But still, it should be enough to hide his hair. He can wear that fluffy pink scarf his other sister Kokori made for him too--ahh no, that was his favorite, they'd recognize it in an instant when he wears it again. It's nice and soft, can you blame him?

He can probably just wear the hat and a pair of sunglasses. His parents had always told him that his large almond eyes and soft brunette hair were his two defining features, so if he cover them no one should be able to recognize him, right? Humming along to the music, Furihata continued to absent-mindedly doodle on the image, not really looking but somehow still making a coherent image as more worries plagued his mind: What if the hat and the sunglasses aren't enough? What if some creepy fan actually notices some obscure features on his face and follow him to Tokyo? What if some journalist do some facial feature recognition test and identify him? What if some arse with way too much time on their hands finds out about him and harasses him, send him razor blades?

Or worse, what if somebody he knows from school shows up there and tells everyone at school that he draws Yaoi? 

Some of you might ask: why is he so adamant on hiding the fact that he draws Yaoi? His work is beloved by many fans, some of whom are men, and it's not as if he is ashamed of supporting homosexuality. His friends are nice and supportive too. (No, it's not as if Furihata's gay! Akashi Seijuurou is just so...perfect, he probably made many other men question their sexualities too. Don't think for a second that Furihata didn't notice the way the other members of the Rakuzan basketball team looked at Akashi like they wanted to kneel at his feet.)

If you seriously want to ask Furihata that question, then Furihata seriously wants to question your sanity. He draws gay porn. He. Draws. Gay. Porn. You don't simply tell people that you draw gay porn, especially if you are a 16 year old boy that spends a good chunk of your days hanging out with other 16 year old boys. Things can get awkward or horny REAL quick. 

Furihata leaned back into his leather spinning chair that he purchased at a yard sale. Still mentally debating with himself on whether to go or not to go, he sighed. He had turned down all other convention appearances, some of which were in Kyoto, in a heartbeat before. So why is he sitting here and actually being indecisive this time? He decided that Koneko's words has really gotten to him more than he'd like to admit. 

Perhaps deep down he knows that she has a point, that he should just go ahead and get Akashi's rejection over with and never think about it again, but Furihata supposes he's just too scared to hear these words from Akashi's own lips. He just wants to selfishly keep his crush on the redhead a dream to be forgotten when he grows up.

Yes, that's exactly what Akashi Seijuurou is. Akashi Seijuurou is the dream, the ideal while Furihata Kouki is the unfortunate reality.

Furihata looked at his artwork and groaned when he saw that he doodled Akashi, again. Nevertheless, he clicks the button and saves it to the folder for the large amount of Akashis that he's drawn since the time he met the redhead. He groaned again when he counted the number of files: 25. 

The pictures feature the Rakuzan captain in various apparels: most commonly in his blue and white competition outfit with the jacket on his shoulders, but also in others, for example suits, kimonos, or just plain naked. A while ago, he actually drew a series with the main character based off of Akashi and--oh god the shame--self-inserted himself as the love interest. The title was "the Lone Emperor", and it was a historical manga about the life of the crown Prince, Seishi Aka, and the pressure he has to shoulder as the future king of his empire. 

He grew up alone and knew of nothing but what he was supposed to be: the absolute, cold-hearted Emperor that cares only about victories and nothing else. With a father who barely talks to him, his mother gone, and the heavy burden of being the crown prince, Seishi's life was nothing but mechanic repetitions of eat, study, work, socialize for the sake of the empire, and sleep. When all of the people he previously thought were his only true friends betray him, trying to take him down and invade his empire, Seishi has a breakdown which resulted in a personality split that somehow activated his full ability. After taking down and beheading all of his previous friends, Seishi begins to talk with his other personality in his abject loneliness, and his mind begins to break as he starts to go down the road of insanity.

His life changed when one of his closest advisers, Kuroya Tetsuko, introduced the prince to the shivering mess of a human being, the royal dressmaker's son Kouhata Furiki. Despite their brief meeting, Kouhata becomes enamored, and Seishi begins to develop affection for Kouhata as well through the small interactions between the two in their individual development as characters. Eventually, Seishi and his father, his only family, reconcile their relationship while Kouhata becomes more brave and willing to take on more responsibility. Their feelings for each other grow stronger, and the series ends with Kouhata confessing and the two boys starting a romantic relationship.

At least that was how Furihata wanted the series to turn out.

The day after the publication of the volume containing the introduction of Kouhata as Seishi's love interest, Furihata received a couple of angry fan letters demanding that "the unworthy chihuahua" be removed from Seishi's side. As the series went on, these letters only grew in terms of both numbers and intensity. He actually received a couple bomb threats and death threats to his family. Soon, not only isn't the manga selling, his popularity as an author rapidly dropped due to the fans' disapproval of the relationship in "the Lone Emperor" and the hatred towards Kouhata. 

"He only meets Seishi about once or twice, and he's so weak while Seishi's so strong, what right does he have to love Emperor-sama?" One fan wrote angrily in her fan letter to him. 

"Honestly, Tetsuko deserved to be with Seishi more! These two knew each other for so much longer and trust each other so much more! What are you thinking sensei?!" Another ranted.

In the face of widespread disapproval, Furihata had to do some damage control for his series by changing his original ending--Almost every person that managed to follow the series through preferred Seishi with Tetsuko, so in the end he decided to kill off Kouhata and got these two together.

He had sobbed on his desk as he drew that ending at eleven in the evening after a long day at school. Sleepy and cold due to the lack of heating in his house, Furihata distinctly remembered feeling empty while drawing for the first time. He can usually finish an entire volume in about two hours, the emotions of the character being breathed in and out of him like air as he moved his hands about on the page, but he actually stayed up all that night and even then wasn't sure he managed to convey the supposed emotional context correctly.

That was the only time he had called coach to skip practice entirely. As he slept the entire day away, he laughed at himself pathetically in his dreams: a manga artist shouldn't be that emotionally connected to his works and characters, Furihata. 

They are fake, ink and paper, only to be manipulated by others. You know that, Furihata. You control their feelings and their emotions, not the other way around.

When Fukuda came to visit him that day, Furihata realized that he had also caught a cold and needed to take the next day off as well. (Furihata chuckled--perhaps it was since that time that Fukuda began to think that any time Furi was a bit worn it was due to his workplace putting way too much pressure on him.) But for some reason he can't explain, he had climbed out of his bed after a particularly horrible fever dream with a red, dripping nose and began to draw the ending he wanted. He couldn't sleep until he did so--his hands were trembling with excitement (and cold) the entire time he was drawing, fingers shaking so much that he could barely hold his pencil up. After the ending was finished, Furihata felt every part of his body finally relax in satisfaction, smiling in relief as if staying up late to draw out your perverted fantasies is some sort of legitimate Catharsis.

He didn't even notice how cold the room was until he got back into his warm bed and fell asleep within minutes. 

Furihata never showed anyone at his publishing office this ending--he sent it to a fan who, like him, was angry at the published ending. Furihata was so lightheaded with joy that there was finally a fan who had actually followed his plot and characters through he didn't really think a whole lot. Oh well, at least his hard work will make someone else happy. The guy sounded like the manga really helped with his life, as strange as that is given the genre. 

Anyway, that was the last time Furihata put Akashi in any of his works. The manga is since then known as the "failure" of his career and never talked about again among his fans or his editors unless as a negative example of something that can go horribly wrong.

\--

Furihata sighed and created another image and this time decided to draw the couple from "The life of a carrot". 

The uke, Midori Shintou, is a superstitious nerd from the countryside that managed to get into a prestigious urban high school with his grades. On his first day at his new school, he was mercilessly bullied for bringing a lucky item to dispel evil spirits, and his classmates also sneered and called him a "carrot" due to the green color of his hair. After two months of endless torment Midori becomes more and more silent and distrustful of others. It was then that he meets his seme, Kazuna Taka, a cheerful city boy that has a special love for gardening. Kazuna begins to stick to Midori like glue, and Midori reluctantly becomes best friends with the boy that cheekily calls him "Shin-chan". These two began to do everything together, including carrying each other via bikes to school everyday. Midori begins to fall in love.

One way, after catching Midori smile at a local garden, Kazuna suggests that they start a gardening club. After some effort and blessings from Midori's lucky items, the club was successful, and they began to manage a little garden in front of the school. Even though the other members didn't like Midori at first and couldn't tolerate his aloofness and weird habits, Takao--I mean Kazuna continued to force Midori to interact with the others, and Midori begins to warm up to everyone after a while. Just when everything's going well, Kazuna collapses one day. He explains to Midori that when he approached him, he had actually been just diagnosed with a terminal illness.

Furihata teared up a little remembering the monologue that's his favorite to this day: 

"After hearing about my illness, my friends--they all left me, Shin-chan. I felt like I lost everything, but then I saw you. Why is someone so beautiful and so full of life like you so sad while someone already on the brink of death like me manages to smile each day? I hated your depressed face. I wanted to be by your side, to make you happy and make you smile, so I did everything to be by your side, because what do I have to lose?

Ahh, I'm on death's bed, Shin-chan~ I'm feeling a little reckless: who cares if we are both guys--they say we shouldn't die with regrets on their minds, so here I go: I love you, Shin-chan. I've loved you since we first met." 

Seriously, how did he write that? On that day they confess their feelings to each other, and have their first kiss in the hospital by Kazuna's bed. After Kazuna gets momentarily discharged from the hospital, these two began to explore each other physically and officially started to go on dates. Lots of sex ensue. This happiness does not last long, however--Kazuna is soon sent back to the hospital and passed away. Three days after Kazuna's death, Midori was consequently captured by a group of mysterious men, drugged, and sold on the black market as a sex slave to be abused and killed when he calls out Kazuna's name during a drug-induced orgasm.

...Yeah, Furihata was not in a good mood that day. 

But this isn't the only manga he based off of the Shutoku duo! He also did two more involving these two: the main couple for "The hawk-eye" and a secondary couple in "My Sadistic Sempai" as friends of the pineapple throwing sempai. Due to the fact that the three couples looked similar and had similar names, it became a running joke among his fans that all three of these couples are the same people in different universes. 

Furihata liked that idea--he was a little harsh with his first treatment of the Shutoku duo. Perhaps he will draw Kazuna and Midori from "the life of a carrot" in the clothing of Takanari and Shinrima from "My Sadistic Sempai"...yes, that was good. As he began to focus his energy on drawing and drummed along to the music from his headphones, he noticed his mother coming into his room holding a plate of fruit. 

Furihata's mother is a beautiful woman with her long black hair that's tied neatly into a bun. Her fingers are long as well as pale like the rest of her body. She had glimmering rose-colored eyes and always wore a sunny smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts. His mother is a beautiful woman; she also, quite frankly looked nothing like him.

His mother always had a weak constitution and couldn't leave the house for prolonged periods of time, which is why she had been a dressmaker since she graduated middle school and rarely left her house. Last year she had been diagnosed with a rare skeletal disease that greatly compromised her ability to move and to therefore support her family. The doctor had recommended that she rest and never get out of the bed unless necessary, but she would often get up all the time to clean the house or to make everybody snacks. "I can't bring home as much money as I used to, so please let me take care of those who do!" She had said.

As his mother stepped into the room next to him, Kouki sighed as he put down his headphones: "Mother, you shouldn't get out so much." he scolded.

"Oh Kouki, don't be so hard on yourself. You're my son, of course I have to take care of you!"

"Mother, you need to take care of yourself first!"

"Aww Kouki, no need to worry about me!" His mom squealed and jumped onto him, "Don't make that pouty face Kouki! It doesn't suit your cute face."

Sighing with slight annoyance at being called cute, Furihata turned back to his work but didn't put back his headphones. He took a peeled orange slice from the plate, and his mother had taken it as a sign that she could sit behind him and watch as he worked. He didn't mind: this work isn't going to be particularly explicit, anyway--to any unknowing individual it would be two male friends just messing around. So he kept on with his work until he heard his mother smile--yes, his mother had a smile that could be heard in her voice--and say to him: "Hey, Kouki. You're really good at this."

Kouki chuckled: "Is that so?"

"No I'm serious." His mother pouted a little bit, "you somehow manage to bring out their characters so well with the little details--like I can tell that this boy" She pointed to the Takao-based character, "is a cheerful socialite while this boy" she pointed to Midorima's anime version, "is a bit distrustful, but not genuinely unkind. You didn't even finish outlining yet but I can already feel that vibe."

"Well, the "vibe" surrounding a person in a given situation is one of the first things you notice." Furihata laughed, "so I try to make it the first thing I want to portray...it's actually one of the hardest things to draw, so thanks for the compliment, mom."

His mother lifted her lips in a gentle smile. "You always notice so much, Kouki. You see so much in this world." She chuckled with a little sadness in her voice, "I'm so proud of you, but on the other hand I'm a little bit sad that you have to support your family at such an age..."

"Mom, not this again." Kouki sighed, his mother always felt guilty for being sick and having to be supported by her family instead of supporting them. The reason sounded ridiculous to him: it's not like she could stop the sickness, and what's family for in occasions like this? His eyes sharpening with alarm when the woman started having a coughing fit, Kouki chided softly, "Go to bed! Rest! Thanks for the fruit and I'm fine mom!"

"You sure? You've looking a little down lately." Kouki was almost left speechless by how...sharp his mother was. She usually seemed so airheaded and carefree, but she was actually sharp when she wanted to be, heh?

"Oh, nothing. Just a decision I have to make about work." Kouki wasn't sure why he wanted to talk to his mom about this--she wouldn't be much of a help. She had never set foot in the manga world, as caring and doting of a mother she was. "There is an opportunity for me to showcase my work in Kyoto, and I can get reimbursed as well as obtain a profit."

"Sounds amazing. Did you take the deal?"

"Not yet--a lot of consequences as well as opportunities might come with this appearance, you know...My private life might get invaded by bombarding fangirls, creeps, reporters after I show my work with my face exposed,"

"You can get something to hide your hair and your face, right"

"I think so, but do you think that will be enough?" Kouki shuddered a little as he quietly replied, "I mean what if some creep sees the rest of my face or does a fingerprint analysis...?"

His mother almost rolled her eyes as she replied: "You think too much. How many people do you think will be so desperate for your affections that they will go to such means?"

"Well you never know--"

"That's never a good reason for not doing something, Kouki." His mother remarked, cutting him off and straightening her back, eyes looking scolding yet soft, "by this logic, why should we do anything? Anything can go wrong. You can get kidnapped by men in black suits on your walk to school, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't go to school. Don't focus so much on the "what-ifs", Kouki, and focus on what's important instead."

"...But what if that creep really does make it over here?"

His mother sighs and pointed a finger at him. She proclaimed: "Do what makes you happy--your life is short, and you have a lot less time than you think you do. Don't spend so much of your energy thinking about what could happen. If these problems come up, we'll just fix then, right?"

Kouki laughs. "Everything will work out somehow, right?"

"Right!" his mother's eyes lit up like a star as her son repeated her catchphrase. His mother is always so cheerful and happy to the point of almost carelessness, but Kouki is thankful for her: if everyone in the household is a worrywart like him or his father, life would be extremely depressing.

\--

The next day at the lockers, he yawned at he put down his bags for practice. After finishing the picture of Kazuna and Midori, he got too inspired and drew a couple other picture for his other series. He also decided to start on another volume for "My manager can't be this cute!" and stayed up until dawn which turned out to be a giant mistake since he hadn't stopped yawning since he stepped into the school.

He's still thinking over whether to go or not to go. His conversation with his mom yesterday helped clear his head a little bit, but not much--after all, he knows his mother tended to be a little clueless with things, but she did have a point--he can't keep on worrying about everything, can he?

A whistle was heard from the gym, which is a sign that practice has started. Furihata quickly stopped all his wonderings and got moving.

The first thing he noticed inside the gym was coach angrily yelling at Koganei and Mitobe. Kogenei was pulling a puppy face that didn't look like a puppy face at all with his cat mouth, and Mitobe had his head laid low. They both seemed to be very sorry for something, and he noticed that neither of them have changed from their usual school uniforms, which for some reason looked a little bit strange today...

"You two are seniors! You have to set an example for your juniors! You can't come in late!" Riko exasperated, index finger pointing at both boys, "What the hell were you two doing anyway? Your clothes are so wrinkled and...are those pants Mitobe's, Koganei?"

"..." Mitobe stared blankly at the girl with apologetic eyebrows, seemingly saying something. Riko apparently didn't understand him as well, so she turned to Koganei,

"Ah! Well, something kinda came up on our way here, Coach! We couldn't help it!"

Ahh, is that something your penis, by any chance? Furihata snickered as he resisted the urge to ask that question out loud. This isn't the first time these two have so obviously not bothered to hide their relationship. Seriously, as if those indirect kisses you guys share with the popsicles aren't enough! 

They are just so meant to be, though: a guy who thinks but can't speak and a guy who speaks but can't think--much, it's a pair made in heaven! And the quirkiness of the relationship between them is so convenient too! Imagine all the dirty things Mitobe could say to his lover without other people noticing! Perhaps...perhaps the only time Mitobe ever lets out his voice is when he is engaged in intimacy with his lover?

Koganei is probably the bottom, what with his inherent cuteness and mumbling. Hmm, but since he is the one that interacts more with people among the two he has more information than Mitobe and knows more about sex? But Mitobe-sempai looks like the type that could be really focused on something he wants to know about? Gah, Furihata can't decide on who's the seme and who's the uke!

But just imagine the usually stoic Mitobe moaning wantonly as Koganei pounds into him, the shorter teasing his voice out with his touches and his unexpectedly dirty words...

But also imagine Mitobe silently whispering: "Koganei, I want to have sex with you right here, right now." during a practice and Koganei blushing and...

"Furi, are you okay?" Kagami popped up at his side, looking concerned.

"Ahh I'm fine." Furihata dismissed any signs of his fantasy ever being present. Kagami's too pure--he shall not contaminate a cinnamon roll. 

"Are you sure, you have this blank look on your face while you stared off into nothing."

"hahaha! Don't worry about it!"

"Are you sure, Furi?" Kagami rubbed his hair, and walked away to Kuroko as he received an affirmative from Furi. Furihata sighed dreamily as he looked at the light and shadow duo, the shorter one saying something that made the taller thrash around and blush. Honestly, there's so much sexual tension in there. Like, Furihata can't even.

"Iron heart, you come here and explain this mess!" Hyuuga yelled, and Furihata tried to not make his eyes appear like hearts as he turned to look at his other ship--I mean his captain and the injured center. The captain pointed at a pile of dog poop on the floor (ugh, Furihata silently pitied their captain. That stuff is nasty) as he stared accusingly at the center. He screeched: "Isn't it your turn today to manage Nigou today?! Don't think that I'll let you off easily because you're injured!"

Kiyoshi released his hands from his ears with an awkward grin after Hyuuga finished his rather loud rant, and smiled apologetically as he approached the flaming captain. "Hyuuga, I'm sorry--I just took my eyes off of him for a second, ya know..."

The center didn't even get to finish his sentence before Hyuuga raised up on his tippy toes, perhaps in an attempt to intimidate the tall center with his height, and yelled back at him: "You are not going to shy away from your grave mistake, right, Iron heart?"

"Ahh, Hyuuga, don't call me that, you know I don't like it..."

"Then don't shy away from your duties, Iron heart."

"Ahh, Hyuuga, stop it..."

"Iron Heart, Iron heart, Iron heart..."

"Stop it..."

"Iron heart, iron heart, iron heart..."

"I said STOP IT Hyuuga!" The usually kind man snapped, gentle face morphing into something that resembled an angry cartoon character, "I'll clean up the dog poop okay! Jesus why are you so melodramatic?!"

"Hah?! I'm melodramatic?" A vein popped from the Captain's forehead. He pressed a finger into Kiyoshi's torso: "More like you don't care about anything! Smiles won't do shit on the court, you know!"

"I. Already. Said. That. I'll. Clean. The. Dog. Poop!" Kiyoshi uncharacteristically hissed, pressing his forehead up against Hyuuga's as Furihata mentally squealed in delight. These two are so totally married! They're just trying to mask it with their lovers' quarrels! Look the way Hyuuga fumes with a flushed face but nevertheless subtly stops to check the center's knees even in the middle of his uncontrollable rage! Or how Kiyoshi does whatever his captain asks him to do--He's just angry with the nickname "Iron Heart" because one, it makes him sound cold and emotionless, and second, it was a name somebody who didn't know him at all gave him, and he just wants his beloved to call him as he is and not by the name somebody else gave him!

Honestly, how can someone not notice these tender glances Kiyoshi gives Hyuuga whenever he's stressed, or how they often appear in a pair when instructing the freshmen like a kind mother and a strict father?

"Goodness sakes." He heard Riko say under her breath, "I gotta--"

Oh hell no. He wasn't going to let nothing get between these two. No offense, Riko-sempai--I know you dated Kiyoshi but he has someone else now, Furihata thought.

"Coach!" Furihata rushed up to Riko, effectively stopping her from getting to the quarreling lovers, "Don't."

The coach looked surprised from a minute. She looked at him in mild confusion: "Furihata-kun? Come on, let me go, I gotta punish them for fighting."

"O-oh no, you don't n-need to do that!" Furihata blurted out, having not really thought of a reason besides to not see someone tear apart the lovers, "I-I-I-I mean, Izuki-sempai said that whenever they quarrel, their relationship gets better, right? This would mean that they can collaborate better in matches, right?"

Izuki turned over his head at the mention of his name, and flashed a smile but thankfully didn't open his mouth. Riko sighed and backed down, but said with a sad smile: "Teppei's injured, so they aren't playing anymore and this fight's just a distraction, but...these two need to just work it out by themselves sometimes." 

Everyone turned to Kiyoshi and Hyuuga, who were feeling a little self-conscious under the scrutiny of the entire basketball team, including their coach and kouhais. They nervously coughed, and soon Kiyoshi went to clean the dog poop and Hyuuga yelled at the team to get to work. Riko shook her head and muttered: "Why can't these two idiots just get along?"

Well, it looks to Furihata that they get along plenty well. Coach just doesn't know as much about love-hate relationships as much as he does.

\--

"Furi, shift your weight onto your right foot!" Riko screamed from across the court, and Furihata winced. The coach was extra strict today, for some reason. Going to sleep late last night was a very bad decision, Furihata realized, for it made him a bit lethargic and less energetic than he usually was. He decided that he would have to turn in early today, so he walked over to coach.

"Coach, I think I'm not up to it today." He quietly requested, "Can I leave practice a bit earlier today?"

"No." Riko said firmly. Furihata felt a bit of desperation claw at his stomache; he's really not feeling good. Riko looked at him and said: "You and the rest of the first years have to get up to par for the practice match with Rakuzan in a couple!"

"Wait what?!" Furihata doesn't remember anything about practice matches with Rakuzan! 

Now he feels his knees shaking and his head going light. Oh my god, this means that he'll have to see Akashi again. He'll have to try not to make himself look like an utter fool...again in front of him. Izuki-sempai will probably go against Akashi, not him, but just looking at Akashi will probably turn him into a blushing mess with a heartbeat way beyond normal for a human....Bad new, very bad news.

"Yes, Furi. I had said that many times throughout the practice. Perhaps you would have noticed if you weren't so busy ogling Kagami and Kuroko." She sighed as Furihata turned his eyes away in shame, "why do you look at them so often anyway? I know you admire their skills, but..."

Oh, Coach. If only you knew.

Riko sighed again as she scanned his body: "Alright, Furi. You look genuinely tired and excessive exercise could do you in if you aren't careful, so I'll let you rest." As Furihata rushed off to the shows, Riko suddenly asked him: "Are there some troubles at work that I should be aware of?"

Surprised, Furi turned around to see coach looking at him with soft concern. The entire team stopped too at the sound of Riko's question, and Furihata suddenly felt like crying with everybody's eyes on him, because the Seirin basketball team isn't just a sports team, it's a family that supports each and everyone of its members on any issues that they may have, basketball or not. 

He's so grateful.

"Thanks everyone..." Furihata felt a large smile crawl on to his face, "but I really am not in serious danger right now. I just stayed up a bit late last night and thought over some decisions that I have to make, but I am alright, and sorry for worrying you guys..."

Everybody nodded with their own smiles on their face, and resumed practicing. Riko herself smiled a relieved smile as Furihata went back into the lockers to take a shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? I think I might have a general idea of how the romance aspect of this story might go, but it might progress really slowly, with lots of fluff and fanboying and interjections from other couples...? Please don't be afraid to drop a suggestion, advice, criticism, or comment!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading my humble fanfiction!


	4. Akashi Masaomi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some parts of this sounded a lot funnier in my head...
> 
> And Oh. My. God. I can't believe I got so much love for that last chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who read it, and an extra thank you to those who left kudos or reviewed! I was actually so scared that I wrote really poorly and that I put too much description in there, so I was relieve that some of you guys actually like it!
> 
> Please Enjoy!

Chapter 4. 

Akashi Masaomi sighed and lifted his head to stare at the ceiling for a break from his work before sighing and moving from his desk to the water dispenser in a corner of the office. As he sat up from his desk, he glanced at the family photo of him and his now deceased wife holding their son, Seijuurou, and smiled. He then winced when he accidentally bumped his knee on the desk. 

Masaomi loved his family, even though he'll admit that he wasn't always the best at showing it...Okay, perhaps he was downright horrible at it. From an outsider's point of view, he probably looked like a insensitive, rich old man who didn't care at all for his only remaining family's wellbeing.

Apparently he put too much pressure on Seijuurou after his mother's death by filling his time up with too many classes--Masaomi meant well; that was how he made through a lot of his own difficult times. He found out the hard way that keeping his schedule light only left him more time to sulk and feel depressed over his difficulties, and he didn't want Seijuurou to go through what he did, so he filled his son's time up with useful activities. He suffered from his wife's death at that time too, so he did the same thing to himself.

Plus, he couldn't let his son see him sobbing into a pillow when he needed him to be the strongest, no?

He loved his son. He really did. That's why he wanted Seijuurou to be well-prepared for his future role as the head of the Akashi family--it's not an easy job, and Masaomi had been told the same chilling sentence by his father when he was Seijuurou's age: "The winners are remembered, and the losers are forgotten." and he would later realize that was indeed the truth. "However, one can't always win," his father had added with a kind smile, "some losses are okay-- they are required for improvement, you just need to win next time or find something else to win in. "

His father had said that to Masaomi because he was timid and, he'll admit, not very smart at the time, but Seijuurou turned out to be so much more intelligent and brilliant and charismatic at age 11 than Masaomi was at age 40. Masaomi was afraid that telling Seijuurou losing was okay would only encourage him to be lazy, so he let that part out. 

To be honest, Masaomi was scared, scared yet proud of his son's seemingly boundless potential and abilities. He wanted to push Seijuurou and help him discover all his abilities, but he didn't know how--after all, he had been nothing like Seijuurou as a child. He had been quiet, grades not bad nor good, never athletically gifted, never smart enough to be a top contender for his grade's top student, never wise enough to beat anyone in a shogi game, and never charismatic enough to make anyone bow his way even after knowing his family name. He couldn't understand his son--he thought his son could do everything alone.

Akashi Masaomi was many things, but he is not an emotionally sensitive man. He never understood what went on in other people's minds, and didn't feel the need to. He didn't depend on other people's approval, and wanted to raise his son to be the same way. Masaomi never suspected that he pushed his son too hard until his son came back one day with gold and red eyes. 

The sad thing was, Masaomi was happy at first--he thought this change signified his son's elevation of his abilities to another level. He never thought that it meant his Seijuurou was going, quite frankly, insane.

By the time he realized something was wrong with his son, it was too late--his son was pointing his mismatched eyes at a business associate, threatening awful things for him and his family unless they complied with his demands. Seijuurou had terrified an entire boardroom into submission with those eyes and that cool voice of his as a first year in high school. Earlier that day, Seijuurou's driver had also told Masaomi some very disturbing rumors about the way Seijuurou punished people that dared to "defy" him, some of the "punishments" so cruel and so...heartless that Masaomi had immediately commanded the driver to send some of these kids consolation baskets.

It was then that Masaomi realized that his son had became a tyrant instead of an emperor. 

The next day when he tried to talk to Seijuurou about his behavior, his red-haired son made him, his father, kneel on the ground with some mysterious force and told him, in a sweet tone so full of hate (and some very sophisticated language), that he is being a hypocrite, that he is going against rules that he himself had told Seijuurou to follow.

That night was the first time Masaomi cried after his wife's death. He went wrong. He created a monster, and he doesn't know how to fix him. He let his wife down.

It wasn't until a week after his son's first loss at a basketball game that something showed him the way. Masaomi smiled as he remembered, and he sauntered over to the library sitting across from his office to retrieve said something.

The item is a manga. On its cover is a Red-haired boy with gold and red mismatched eyes wearing an elegant blue and white yukata. It was titled "The Lone Emperor". 

Masaomi had originally picked this up from one of his business associates to survey the audience for the Akashi family's venture into the field, but instead was touched by the plot. Halfway through the manga, Masaomi realized how much the story resembled Seijuurou's life from his son's perspective and how much the main character, Seishi Aka, resembled his son both inside and outside. After realizing that, Masaomi nearly wept at the main character's loneliness, fear, and hurt, so well portrayed by the talented artist through the beautifully drawn pages. Having finished the first in the series, Masaomi went ahead and purchased a subscription to the Furiha Kou, the manga artist. This meant that he would automatically receive any works from Furiha Kou without having to go to the bookstore himself. 

He will, however, admit that it was a bit surprising to find out that another male character became romantically interested in his son's look-alike, or that every single one of the author's works contained some form of male homosexuality. It was of no importance to Masaomi, though--he even came to find it endearing. He even approved of the Seijuurou-look-alike's potential lover, Kouhata Furiki.

Even though the Mangaka probably intended Kouhata to be somewhat plain, Masaomi found the character's almond-shaped eyes and fluffy brunette hair appealing. True, Kouhata and Seishi only met for a short time, but Masaomi himself fell for his wife at first sight, and Kouhata's persevering love for Seishi touched his heart. They probably would be great together, too--Kouhata seemed cowardly at first but was really observant while Seishi was overpowering on the surface but desperately needed love on the inside. 

Which is why he was really angry when in the end, when the admirer finally confessed, Seishi tricked him into jumping off a roof and ended up together with their mutual friend, Tetsuko. Masaomi had promptly ripped the book in frustration and angrily sent the mangaka a handwritten letter demanding to know the reasoning behind the absurd ending, to which the mangaka actually replied in another, albeit short, handwritten letter:

"Hello Masaomi-san:

Haha, this is the first time I've heard that someone's angry that Kouhata-kun didn't end up with Seishi-kun! I'm sorry that you were disappointed--I was disappointed too, but I have received several death threats since the introduction of Kouhata as Seishi's love interest, and the vast majority of fans preferred Tetsuko with Seishi instead. I drew what I drew for my safety, not for my heart.

I'm also happy that you followed "The Lone Emperor" through! ^-^ This was actually my worst-selling manga. As thanks, attached to this letter please find my original ending for the story. 

Thanks for you support,  
Furiha Kou"

The paper for the letter was stained with a couple drops of water, and Masaomi deduced with heartache that they were tears. "Being a manga artist isn't easy.", he had sighed as he finished reading the letter.

But that ending was beautiful. It made Masaomi happier than anything. Seishi reconciled with his father, and Furiki took Seishi out on their first official date in the commoner's festival. It was simple, many conflicts were resolved, and Masaomi was led to realize that above everything, he needed to be there for Seijuurou. Whatever Seijuurou's like, Masaomi needed to talk with his son and be next to him, not just try to handle everything from his cold, hard office and think he knows his son better than anyone when they hardly talk.

Since then, Masaomi has tried to worm his way into Seijuurou's life with small talks about school and his hobbies. Now Masaomi thinks the relationship between him and his son has been getting better, even though the man understands too well that his son still doesn't trust him completely. Nevertheless, he is thankful for Furiha Kou.

Which is why he is sponsoring a manga convention at Kyoto especially for Yaoi and sent Furiha Kou several invitations. However, he soon acknowledged that Furiha Kou isn't a very public figure, and have rejected many invitations to other conventions. Masaomi shrugged at the thought--he knows many men like that, and these men always put more effort into their work than others. It would be a pity that he can't see him though. However, after reading Furiha Kou, he had read many other "yaoi" mangas, as manga containing male homosexuality is typically called, and had a couple of other authors whose works he approved of (although nothing beats Furiha-sensei's work in realism and beauty, if you asked Masaomi). 

He could perhaps also send that son of his out and embarrass him, just a little bit.

Examining the book, Masaomi felt a smile crawl onto his face. Furiha-sensei said that this was his worst-selling series, but he personally felt it was the best.

\--

Speaking of his son, Masaomi can't help but seriously wonder about him at times.

First of all, Seijuurou's mother, Shiori, was beautiful, but she wasn't stunning--she wasn't ugly on the outside, but most of her beauty was on the inside, exhibited more in her speech than in her face; Masaomi himself is not an exceedingly attractive man either, with absolutely nothing notable in his exterior appearance. 

So how in the world did Akashi Seijuurou turn out to be a drop-dead-gorgeous hottie?

His hair was red like his mothers, but seemed to got mixed with a bit of magenta as he grew older. It made Seijuurou the center of attention wherever he went, making him tantalizingly exotic in combination with his snow white skin and his slim, long legs even though he is 100% Japanese. (Seriously though, what the hell is with that hair color? But Masaomi decided to promptly shut up when he saw the hair colors of his son's middle school teammates--Generation of Miracles? It would have been better to call them the rainbow! Green? Purple? Cyan blue?! Who the hell has Cyan blue hair?!)

If Seijuurou looked beautiful from a distance, he looked even better up close. One of his irises was red like his mother's, and the other gold like his father's. He had natural cat eyes shaped with thick but not long eyelashes, which made it look like he constantly wore eyeliner. This feature was taken from Masaomi, but while it made Masaomi look something like a dishonest thief, it made Seijuurou look decisive and mature as a child and utterly seductive as an almost-adult. In addition to his eyes, Seijuurou has a delicate nose and a pair of pink, soft looking lips that sent shivers that people's spines, including Masaomi's, whenever they curl up into a smirk. 

Oh god, the smirk. The lowering of his eyelids to cover half of his glowing heterchromatic eyes and the gentle lifting of his lips coupled with a slight raising of one elegant eyebrow just about murdered everyone that dared to come his way. On that face, it was a deadly look. Seijuurou probably knew that since his son used that smirk everywhere. 

Everywhere.

Also, another one of his son's signature looks is the glare. Seijuurou will promptly cross his arms, lock those damn eyes onto his target, lower his eyebrows and frown. All his target has to do now is to turn intensely pale in the face and make his escapade.

Seijuurou also used this look everywhere.

General message, his son's hot (Yes, Masaomi has no problem admitting that his son is, indeed, hot.) and not only did Seijuurou look seductive as hell, he sounded seductive as hell too. Masaomi has no idea where the hell Seijuurou acquired that magnetic, smoothing tenor of a voice, but every time the redhead dipped his voice low to suavely whisper with the goddamn smirk on his face, it sent tremors down his father's spine and up a certain person's crotch.

Masaomi shook his head as one of his hands waved about in front of him, trying to swat away the memory of the Akashi family's previous butler getting a hard on last week when the younger Akashi, leaning sloppily against the stairs, beckoned the servant over with said smirk and whispered something in the servant's ears with said voice. The butler had been Masaomi's personal attendant as a child, and the elder Akashi had believed the old man to be asexual until his son gave the guy a hard on.

(Of course, note previous. Masaomi promptly fired the old butler's sorry arse, of course not before he informed the sorry arse of the predicament he's going to be in if Masaomi hears about anything between him and Seijuurou.)

He winced again when he accidentally knocked over his water in his hand waving.

So in short, Seijuurou's a sex god. In addition to being a sex god, he has intelligence in the top 1% of the population, is athletic and learns things fast, not to mention he comes from one of the most prominent families of Japan. Jesus, talk about winning the genetic lottery. Wait, actually Masaomi's pretty sure that the lottery's jinxed: it is way too likely that his son had threatened someone with that damn smirk while he held a knife to the poor guy's head before he was even born.

Even the air around him! The aura surrounding Seijuurou was powerful and all commanding, and he just seemed to have the ability to make any person in front of him willing to kneel in obedience and lap up everything he say like a dog. 

Well, "any person" doesn't include Masaomi. Seijuurou came out of his wife's vagina naked some odd 16 years ago, and one does not simply willingly kneel in front of someone that came out of his wife's vagina naked some odd 16 years ago. 

"Akashi-sama, dinner is ready" called out his new butler, who would probably be considered pretty attractive if Seijuurou wasn't in the house. Masaomi sighed as he moved himself out of his office towards the dining room. 

\--

The general color scheme for the western styled mansion is red and black. As he walked to the dining room, Masaomi stepped on gem-like red and gold tiles that were arranged in an artful manner. The black walls were decorated with artworks and paintings, some being of Western artists and others being from the East, that were hung up in red frames. Masaomi stepped closer to one, and frowned: the paint was falling off. He would have to tell the new butler something about that. (The family didn't have that many servants: only one butler, one chef, two gardeners, and a couple of maids. Masaomi found no need to keep that many servants around--they were expensive, and too many servants breed trouble.)

The doors leading to the rooms were made out of redwood with ornate doorhandles and a peeping hole, both made of glass lined with a thin strip of gold. A redwood railing also lined the walls, providing space for setting something aside when opening the doors. Little candle-shaped lights hung from the tall ceiling, alternating in Red and white. 

As Masaomi walked under them, he heard a loud moan of his family name: "A, Aka~ Ah! Akashi~!". He stopped and started for a second, until he remembered that there's another person that went by the name Akashi here, but he nevertheless cringed. Let's not mention what his son is doing, Seijuurou's room is still pretty far from here, so why can he hear these sounds so clearly?

These sounds still undoubtedly came from Seijuurou's room, for as he got closer to the room on his way to the dining room, the noises got louder (and a tad more frantic and higher in pitch, accompanied with pleading calls of "No, no please, I'm--Ahh! Please!"). The cringe on Masaomi's face got more and more expressive and the older Akashi contemplated going another route, but he figured that he can just walk by the room with a scarred image of his son and then just get to the dining room like usual.

He didn't expect to hear an especially strained moan to come out of the room as he was in front of it. Stopping in his tracks in case something happened, Masaomi stood there silently to listen to more. He was surprised to hear a breathless groan, and then suddenly his son stormed out of the room, looking flawless and not like he had just been doing you-know-what, with his short red hair in shape and not so much a blush or a single perspiration in sight.

"Why do I have the pleasure of meeting you here, father?" Seijuurou asked calmly, snapping Masaomi out of his wonder. He raised one eyebrow: "You were not listening, were you?"

Masaomi sighed, resisting the urge to rub his temples at the sight of his son's inappropriate calmness, and composed himself. He gave his son a serious look which probably didn't faze the younger Akashi at all. "It was rather hard to not listen, Seijuurou--you two were rather vocal. But I was not standing outside your door and deriving sexual pleasure from your intimacy, if that is what you are asking." Masaomi stated, looking into his son's heterochromatic eyes, "I was on my way to dinner in the dining hall, and am I correct to assume that you did not receive news of the meal's completion due to your preocupation with other matters?"

"Yes, father. You are correct." Seijuurou replied. He set foot to begin walking towards Masaomi's previous destination, but stopped to turn and face his father halfway through the motion. After silently beholding his father with an indifferent expression for a while, he opened his mouth: "Do you have any further questions, father?"

Masaomi hesitated before asking, slowly: "You got dressed rather quickly, Seijuurou. Much quicker that I'd expect after such sessions."

"I did not completely remove my clothing during the act, father. Being in the nude is not a requirement for intimacy."

"Are you not afraid that your partner's bodily fluids will stain your clothing?"

Seijuurou smirked. "Oh. Well, father, you see." Seijuurou's voice was polite, but it dipped a bit lower with a teasing tone, "No fluids will come in contact with my clothing if I am skillful enough, father, and I can assure you I am plenty skillful."

The elder Akashi furrowed his brows: "I am afraid I do not understand the source of your confidence, Seijuurou. You can not assume--"

He was interrupted by a laugh from his son, who is currently lifting one of his eyebrows while those lips curled into a grin. The younger Akashi leaned against a wall as he looked at his father with mild amusement. "Oh, forgive me.' Seijuurou gently commented with a slight jibe in his tone, "I am merely surprised that the head of Akashi is so" he stopped briefly to think of his next word, "...innocent in such matters. It is the most amusing to me, father."

Masaomi hissed: "Do not disrespect me, Seijuurou." Masaomi was not innocent in regards to such matters, especially between men, thanks to the large amount of Furiha Kou's works in his perusal.

"Oh, I apologize." Seijuurou elegantly replied, as if they were talking about a business partnership instead of you-know-what, "I intend no disrespect, father."

Liar. Masaomi thought, You are not sorry. I know you too well.

"Please go to the dining room without me, Seijuurou. I have some other matters to take care of."

Seijuurou looked like he wanted to say something, but he simply nodded, turned around, and said: "Of course, father. I shall see you there."

\--

After making sure that his father is nowhere in sight, Seijuurou sighed and made his way back to where he had his conversation; Akashi Masaomi is a very curious man, and he is simply not one to let an unknown event slip from his hands without understanding the mechanism behind it completely. He is adventurous and very willing to expand his business and knowledge base, leading him and the Akashi family to make footing in almost every corner of Japan's economy. During the time Seijuurou has began to help with the business, the family had began to expand into the monster corporation that it is, feared and respected by all.

Seijuurou currently stood near the door as his father stepped cautiously into Seijuurou's room, where Nebuya Eikichi lays on a red bed covered in bruises and is blushing and panting like he had just gone to heaven and back. The younger Akashi grinned: he simply wanted to test how his muscles, include his kegel muscles, worked, even though dominating the larger man and pounding him senseless, reducing him to a spasming, moaning mess as Seijuurou led him to his first dry orgasm had been very enjoyable too.

The dark-skinned male lay on the bed, only semi-conscious as Seijuurou's father examined his surroundings--no semen in sight. The elder Akashi looked around the surroundings, and pepped into a trash bin and, to his disappointment, only found one used condom. Furrowing his eyebrows, Masaomi continued to walk around the room like a detective, and continued to find nothing of notice. 

Returning to the bed, his father asked the tan man on his son's bed: "Are you okay?"

Sejuurou supposes he went a little rough on Eikichi, but that's how he knows that Eikichi liked it. The tan man is only half conscious as Masaomi poked him.

Eyes curious and focused, Seijuurou's father poked Eikichi again. 

And again.

And again until the large man rolled over and fell into the pillow face first, revealing his muscles and all the bruises (and cuts--he'll admit he went a little insane with the whip) Seijuurou had left on him.

Seijuurou almost snickered as he saw an eternally scarred expression roam across his father's usually stoic face, the edges of his eyebrows pulling down and squeezing his eyes into triangles. His hands reached out into the air and seemingly tried to push away the image as he closed his eyes. Curiousity killed the cat, father--although it is a bit amusing that his father doesn't understand the concept of a dry orgasm.

His expression returning to normal, the elder Akashi began to look around a bit more. He picked up a rod-like cage that's rounded on one tip and open on the other, and played around with it, opening and closing it. His eyes seemed fascinated by the gadget as he opened the cage completely, especially taking interest in the insertable small stick at the rounded-end of the cage, although he seemed genuinely confused.

The elder Akashi seemed to want to take the gadget to his own office for further inspection. He moved out of the room holding the gadget, and Seijuurou furrowed his brows. 

"Father." He called.

"...!" He saw silent horror run across his father's eyes as he hid the gadget behind his back.

"Give that back to me, father."

"..."

"Father."

"I'm you father, I have a right to--"

"Father." Seijuurou let his eyes glow for a second, pulled his lips up into a smirk, and slightly tilted his head, "Give that back to me, or else."

His father turned his head to the other direction and sulked as he returned the gadget to his son. Seijuurou took the cage out and went into his room, giving a glare at his father to get lost. His father glared back at him, but turned his head to the other direction to give Seijuuou some privacy. As Seijuurou was placing the gadget back to its original place, his father said: "What is the purpose and function of that item?"

"Really, father? You cannot figure it out?"

"..."

Seijuurou teased: "Do you really want to know, father?"

"Yes." Is that a...pout he hears in his father's voice?

"Well then go ask someone else. Fathers should give their sons the talk, not the other way around."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did you like Masaomi? Or a better question...can any of you guys guess what the cage is for, or is my mind too filthy for ya? Anyway, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, and if you have any comments, suggestions, criticisms, please don't be afraid to drop one!
> 
> Thank you for reading my humblr fanfiction!


	5. A Boy Worth Fighting For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: MIGHT GET A LITTLE BIT STEAMY (?)
> 
> A huge thanks to everyone who followed my story up to this point, and an extra huge thanks to those who reviewed! Glad so many of you liked Masaomi XD! I liked writing him too.
> 
> The next update might be slow, though...I have a lot of exams coming up, and I don't know how long it'll take me to finish the next chapter.

Chapter 5.

Akashi Seijuurou sat at the dining table, quietly cutting up his food as he looked at his father from the corner of his eye. The other must have noticed him staring, for the elder was doing the same as he processed his food at the other side of the table. The atmosphere was somewhat awkward; Seijuurou was enjoying the silence as he commenced his meal, but he couldn't help thinking that his father wanted to say something as the elder stared into his soul. 

"So..." Masaomi finally opened his mouth, briefly setting down his utensils, but then immediately closed his oral orifice in hesitation. Seijuurou lifted his head to lazily stare at his father as he waited for the sentence to be completed. Brows rapidly furrowing and unfurrowing, his father seemed to briefly ponder his next words for a second before reopening his mouth: "That boy in your room earlier..."

Seijuurou wanted to remark that a man of Nebuya's size and physique can hardly be called a boy. "His name is Nebuya Eikichi, father. He is a player on my basketball team." He answered nonchalantly, turning his head down to look at the food again. 

Any normal person would have picked up that Seijuurou didn't care much about him and didn't want to talk about him any more.

Unfortunately, Seijuurou's father isn't a normal person. The older man further inquired, despite the many hints in his son's body language that told him not to: "Are you two close?"

Seijuurou stuffed a seared tofu into his mouth and chewed, extra slowly and throughly, to delay his answer just a little bit before he cheekily replied: "That completely depends upon what you call close, father." He tried not to laugh as his father gave an exasperated look at the long awaited reply. "Don't twist my words around, Seijuurou. You know what I mean."

Deciding not to tease his father again, he replied: "Nebuya is a valuable teammate, father; but we are not in a romantic relationship."

The older Akashi sighs: "Of course, Seijuurou." Masaomi digs into his food as he unceremoniously sighs again, as if the food had wronged him. He remarks before putting a piece of sliced carrot in his mouth: "You really ought to engage in a more stable relationship with one person." 

"Really, father? I would never have thought you were the sentimental type."

"I am not sentimental, Seijuurou--if you keep on going about with your promiscuity you will fall victim to a jealous man or a broken hearted one, not to mention the horrible moral implications behind your actions."

"You speak as if an Akashi can become a victim or morally wrong."

"And you speak as if Akashi is a synonym for god."

"Are you belittling your lineage, father?"

"No, you're just engorging your already bloated ego, Seijuurou."

The room fell silent once again as father and son stared into each others' eyes, Masaomi with impassive blankness as if he just recited the alphabet and Seijuurou with a slightly raised brow. Ever since his first loss at the winter cup, his father has begun to initiate more small talk with him and attempt more contact with him. Their conversations have become longer and remarkably less polite with both sides sharing information regarding their personal lives and bits of sarcasm and witty insults thrown in occasionally. 

Seijuurou does not find it unpleasant. He welcomes his father's newfound interest in his life, his basketball team, and his friends. He does not find it unpleasant even though perhaps he ought to. The fact of this change taking place after his first loss only adds more to the alarm. Perhaps his father is disappointed in him, and therefore has given up on respecting him and raising him to be an heir; perhaps his father is punishing him for letting his pride get to the best of him at the game and is trying to lower his defenses for the ultimate blow; perhaps he is going to slowly take away Seijuurou's freedom. 

All of these theories could make sense, if his father has not delegated the same amount of trust to Seijuurou in his business affairs, if not more. 

Seijuurou does not know his father's intentions, and this, quite frankly, displeases him. He has ransacked his brain for reasons, but none of them quite make sense. Maybe he should open up about some issues his father could be potentially displeased about.

"Father, do you expect me to become stable with a man?" Seijuurou broke the silence, feigning indifference as he stared at the vase, "homosexuality is still not widely accepted in Japan, and males cannot produce any heirs. A stable relationship with a male would only be a waste of affection and time."

He purposefully roughens up his words, trying to convince his father as well as his own heart that this is only a past time, that in the face of responsibility he will have no hesitation in marrying a woman of his father's choice and creating an heir. Seijuurou has long known that he is bisexual with a heavy preference for men, but he will conceive an heir and carry on the Akashi name, since it is his duty. This is his future as an Akashi, and he supposes that his sleeping around with men alarmed his father quite a bit. While staring down at his hands, Seijuurou hears his father setting the utensils down and presumably stares at him for a while. 

Ba-dump, ba-dump, beats his heart as he feels the silence stretching uncomfortably upon every inch of his own skin. He tries to focus his gaze on the white tablecloth, expression not changing as the elder Akashi asks: "Do you honestly believe your own words just now?"

"Of course I do, father. These words are uttered by my own tongue. Do you not believe me?" Seijuurou replied quickly, continuing to look at his food, palms sweaty for some reason. This is the time, he thought to himself, this is the time the purpose behind his father's actions, the punishment is going to come down. Many thoughts fleeted his mind: Will he yell at me? Will he stomp me below his foot? Will he disown me or threaten me with my inheritance? 

His father didn't move or make a sound, and the two males sat silently across each other at the large dinner table. 

The room was so quiet that Seijuurou can distinctly hear a small branch on the old cherry tree breaking due to the wind. When one of the cherry branches breaks it makes a clear, sharp snapping sound instead of the heavier thump of other trees. It's so slight that he usually doesn't hear it, but the utterly deafening silence in the room coerces him to direct his attention elsewhere, for example to the tree.

Even though Seijuurou suspects that he only feels this way because his mother had spent a lot of time underneath it, he thinks that that tree is special. First of all, it's larger than all the others. Even though it only blooms for such a short time, the pedals fly everywhere with the wind, sometimes even landing on him as he made his way towards the door after school. Everyone who stands under the cherry blossoms somehow all look so happy and beautiful, even his ailing mother as she watched him practice basketball on the tiny court.

Now that Seijuurou actually bothers to think about it, his mother was sick for a long time and looked it; he just never noticed it back then. 

With each moment in silence Seijuurou's heart grows heavier. What will he do if his father does kick him out of the family? He can probably finish Rakuzan on a scholarship, although he probably can't do as much without his father backing him. Where'll he stay? Maybe at Reo's...? With his intelligence he'll definitely be able to make a decent living, but ahh, so much for his mother's hopes for him. What would she think of his father? As his mind ran on, the elder Akashi then breaks the silence:

"Seijuurou, the gender of your partner in life is no concern of mine."

Seijuurou was knocked out of his comfortably unpleasant sea of worries. Red and gold eyes look up in shock: "Father!" Has his ears failed him? Is he hallucinating?

"Yes, Seijuurou, you are not hallucinating and your ears have not failed you." His father states again, stern as usual but with a much softer expression, which does not change as he continues: "Japan is becoming more open to homosexuality by the day, and I highly doubt any of my business associates will think little of you, regardless of your sexual orientation, after one meeting with you."

Seijuurou starts again, but his father interrupts him: "In fact, it will be much better for the family if you have one stable male partner than if you have a female wife but still continues to sleep around with your various male lovers. The public is much more willing to tolerate homosexuality than cheating. Your enemies will have less cards to use against you if you just come upfront with your orientation."

"What...what about potential business alliances?" Seijuurou's voice uncharacteristically shakes with shock, "I thought for sure you would like me to make a partnership with an ally..."

"There is no need to do so with the Akashi's rate of growth. I find it antiquated and backwards to strictly marry within the same status for the purpose of "higher class" children. I myself did not marry for business purposes, Seijuurou--your mother was a classmate of mine in my university that happened to have come from a rich family as well, but neither of your grandfathers have arranged our marriage."

"I...I..."

His father actually chuckled: "You are stuttering. How unusual."

"Father, am I right to assume that you will allow me to bring home a man as my wife?" Seijuurou asked, eyes going large.

His father stuffed a seared tofu into his mouth and thoughtfully chewed for what felt like a good ten minutes. Seijuurou growled nervously as he glared into his father's eyes. The man stares back impassively, chewing a bit more than Seijuurou would deem necessary for tofu. 

He swallowed before he remarked nonchalantly: "A man cannot be called a wife, Seijuurou."

"Don't twist my words around, father. You know what I mean."

His father stayed silent as he looked at his son. He was smiling, an expression Seijuurou is unused to see on his face. His sexual orientation has been the one problem and shame that clawed at his mind as an Akashi. As he went along his day, the guilt would rise up from his stomach whenever he thought about his orientation and won't go away until something else distracted him. It was the one insecurity he had about his position as the future head of the Akashi family. This was partly why he had slept around so much--he wanted to enjoy what he wanted as much as possible before he became a head of the most prestigious household. Now that his father had so utterly dispelled this worry, Seijuurou feels a bit...elated and doesn't know what to do with his newfound happiness.

"However," His father suddenly commanded stoically, features hardening for a moment before resuming his meal, "I don't want you just picking off any guy from the streets, for marriage or for anything else. From now on, whenever you decide to enter into a relationship, physically or emotionally, I want you to be prudent and find someone worthy of the Akashi name. That means no more randomly sleeping around, Seijuurou." 

"Father!"

"Don't "father" me, Seijuurou."

"It ought to be fine it the relationship is only for entertainment and pleasure on both sides, right?"

"Entertainment? Pleasure?" His father groaned as he rubbed his temples in exasperation, "...You have a horrible sense of entertainment and pleasure then, Seijuurou. If you have so much time as to call this immoral sleeping around and playing with people's hearts legitimate entertainment, then you ought to study or learn more about your future business."

"Father."

"Don't glare at me, Seijuurou. This is for your own good. It is important to value your relationships with others and devote all your affections to one person who is good to you and good for you, as your mother was for me."

Oh, of course Masaomi will play the "your mother" card. Seijuurou mentally hissed: he had started this trend back when he was in middle school, and it will be hard to change. His father rarely cared about his personal life, including his sexual activity before. If his father had made this request back then, he would have pretended to listen but not care anyway. Today, however, his father's...kindness has touched him and made him feel a lot indebted to his father and a lot more willing to listen to what his father had to say. 

"...That will be a given, father." Seijuurou replied, actually meaning it as he made a mental note to cancel some of his arrangements.

\--

After they both finished the remainder of their meals, the elder Akashi opened his mouth again: "Speaking of duties, Seijuurou, would you mind preparing and giving the opening speech at the manga convention in a few weeks?"

Seijuurou looked confusedly at his father as he patted his mouth clean with a napkin, one eyebrow quirking up. He knew that his father had wanted to move into the publishing industry for a while but: "Of course not, father. But why do you want me to make the opening speech?"

"You are much closer in age with our target audience, so it will be less awkward for a teenager like you than for a middle-aged man like me." 

Well, that made sense. Seijuurou nodded: "I completely understand, father. Are there some materials I should read over in preparation?". His father nodded too, and pulled out a sheet of paper folded in his front pocket. Masaomi said: "Read some works by these authors first."

His father had an odd gleam in his eyes as he said that. Suspicion rose in Seijuurou's head as he took over the paper, staring straight into his father's golden eyes as he did so. You have a plan don't you? He thought as Masaomi turned away from him under the intense scrutiny. 

His father definitely has something planned. Peering at the list, Seijuurou read out some names: "Nasumari Kiregi, Furiha Kou, Gundou Teshiku...?"

"Yes, Seijuurou. Read their works. They are artists that could be at the convention and represents the scope of works in the industry." Masaomi calmly instructed, but don't think for a second that Seijuurou did not see the anticipation in his eyes. The younger Akashi raised an eyebrow.

"Alright, father." Seijuurou got up and left for his room. He will ask Chihiro about some of these authors, since the silver haired boy is a bit more familiar with anime and manga than he is. Just as he was about to step out of the dining room, he caught a glimpse of his father wanting to say something. Elegantly turning himself around, the redhead asked: "Do you have any further instructions?"

His father hesitated before inquiring with a concerned expression on his face: "How is the boy...Nebuya-san doing? Earlier in the room he seemed unconscious. You did not do anything illegal in nature to him, did you?"

"What kind of person do you take me to be, father?"

"Not someone I'd like to spend a night with, judging by the looks of that poor boy."

"Your words wound me, father." Seijuurou smirked, laughing a little flirtaciously as he winked at the elder--he's feeling a little mischievous with his father today: "I could change your opinion of my bedroom skills if you give me the chance, you know--I can be quite the gentleman, especially if my partner is a lovely virgin like you." 

His father looked utterly unfazed as he commented blankly: "Seijuurou, I am your father. By virtue of your existence I am not a virgin."

"You focused on that part."

"What else am I supposed to focus on?"

"...I'm leaving, father." 

/--/

Furihata Kouki was alone in the showers, skipping out early due to his lack of sleep the previous night. The droplets of water bounce off his skin and cleanise his body of dirt and sweat. Even though the temperature of the water in the gym's showers is infamously capricious, Furihata doesn't mind--his own house isn't much better on that. However, he wasn't exactly focusing on it at the moment. His mind is preoccupied with other matters, namely the coach's words--they will have a practice match with Rakuzan in a couple months.

Ahh, who is he kidding? It's not like anyone will rely on him to secure a win against Akashi when there's amazing people like Kagami and Kuroko. Izuki-sempai at least has the eagle eye, but Furihata doesn't even have a single special skill he can use. He can pass to others and make a shot, but that's about it and both are done at pathetically low percentages in comparison with the others, so why is he feeling nervous about the match?

Maybe it's because Akashi will be there with his overwhelming presence and perhaps, just perhaps, the redhead could look the nervous brunette's way. Even though Furihata knows as a fact that no one will pay attention to him, just the possibility of the redhead glancing at him with those eyes sends shivers down his spine. He can just imagine Akashi looking absolutely stunning in his white and blue Rakuzan uniform, reiterating with every glide and pull of his muscle that he, Akashi Seijuurou, is the king of the court and will make everyone kneel in front of him if needed to.

When he first met Akashi, the Rakuzan captain stared him down while asking--no, commanding him to leave. That power, that control, that confidence in those heterochromatic eyes had aroused something deep and strange in Furihata. The brunette wanted to willingly kneel beneath him, to relinquish all control he managed to have over himself to Akashi. He wanted to let the redhead command him, to do whatever he wanted because something in the way he moved promised Kouki that he is more than capable of reducing him to a panting mess.

As he recalled how he had felt when he first met Akashi, Furihata found a hand traveling to his lower regions. The boy tried to restrain himself and move his hand away, but as more images of the redhead appeared in his mind it became remarkably harder for his hand to stop its actions as his lower regions grew a mind of their own. He shivered as the image of Akashi Seijuurou's handsome face smirked at him and his low, smooth voice whispered obscene words into his ear. Biting his lips as he habitually did during such session, Furihata moved his hands about against his shaft. Since he always had to do this in his house, he can't be loud, can he?

He silently moaned as frontal simulation gradually fell short in satisfying the fire deep inside him. Furihata looked around with half-lidded eyes, trying to find something amidst his heat. When he realized that nothing within his immediate reach was capable of acting as a lubricant, he bit his lips more and slid two fingers into his anus. 

He had first fingered himself to better compose his plots and understand the feeling of being penetrated, but he eventually became addicted to the sinful feeling. Furihata hotly panted as he turned off the water, shutting the water off and kneeling on the ground. In Furihata's pleasure hazed mind, Akashi was behind him, languidly rubbing his long, slender fingers against every sensitive spot on Kouki's body. Akashi is behind him, whispering: "Look at you, Kouki", breath hot against the brunette's neck. Furihata screwed his eyes tight together, his fingers almost bringing him to climax. His mouth dropped open and saliva flowed out; he's close. He can't think anymore--all he can focus on is his Akashi smirking and commanding him. "Scream for me." Akashi said as he brought one of his hands to gently caress the tip of Kouki's length, "Come for me, you masochist."

Kouki was about to do that when the door opened with a slight bang. He immediately removed his fingers and shot up from his knees.

"Let's see what they have here!" a cheery female voice chirped. Furihata lost his erection, and quirked an eyebrow. The only woman that would be here at practice is Riko, and she certainly had enough decency to not peek inside the boys changing, as much as she loved muscles. Not to mention that there is not really any muscles to look at here. Now that he paid attention to her, she didn't quite sound like Riko as well. 

The woman whistled as Furihata racked his mind to identify the sound, and suddenly the answer came to him. 

Momoi Satsuki. 

Furihata blinked, then blinked again. What the hell is Momoi Satsuki doing in the Seirin boys' locker room? He pulled his face into a grimace. He's never been so thankful for his habit of staying silent, but how the hell is he supposed to get out naked with a woman outside, and why the hell is said woman in here in the first place? As the point guard contemplated his situation, he heard a ruffling of the bags. 

Moving gently as to not make any sounds, he lifted the curtain to see the pink haired girl looking through people's bags, eyes bright and humming some song. She's wearing her usual outfit, and her lips are protruding, perhaps in contemplation. After much hesitation, she finally decided to open a red sports bag with countless ribbons of various colors on it, the most prominent one being rainbow colored that hung on the handle. 

That bag was Kagami's. When the teammates laughed at the countless ribbons on his backpack, the American returnee just gave them a glare that said: "Y'all country nutcrackers don't understand nothing." Furihata personally never laughed at them--he judged, by the way that Kagami sometimes looked at a bright pink ribbon with pain, that they mean something important to him, but if he didn't know any better he would have thought the bag to be a woman's. As Momoi looked through the contents, seemingly looking for something, her humming stopped when she came upon what looked like a manga to Furihata. 

...

Kagami reads manga?

Huh, he can't even pass his kanji test but he's reading manga? Knowing Kagami, Furihata guessed that it was a hotblooded sport manga. He rolled his eyes as Momoi examined the book--the book's probably about basketball. "What a basketball idiot." Furihata said under his breath.

Momoi, thankfully, didn't notice. But he nearly shrieked when he heard a loud thump. Shocked, Furihata turned to see that the girl had thrown the book disdainfully upon the floor, her face blossoming in utter distaste. He peered over the shower curtain, and nearly flipped out when he saw that it was "Shadow and Light". 

...Kagami reads YAOI?! And "Shadow and Light" of all things?!

Furihata would have made a little dance of excitement behind the shower curtain if he didn't see water getting onto the crumpled pages, to which he winced angrily. Outside the curtain, Momoi contemptuously tsked: "I would have never thought that Riko-chan is into this kind of stuff. Seriously, what is the big deal about two guys doing it anyway? What do these people have against beautiful girls with men instead of other...men?"

...Oh no you didn't, Momoi Satsuki.

Control yourself, He said to himself. Don't harm a woman. She is allowed to have her own opinion, He said.

"Ahh, but back to the job." Momoi cheerfully beamed, and if this is a manga there would be flowers appearing behind her. Furihata narrowed his eyes as he observed Momoi's next move.She looked through the bag some more, and after everything has been throughly emptied her pretty face landed into a pout. Didn't find something? Furihata furrowed his brows. Shouldn't you ask someone for something you lost...? 

Momoi looked suspiciously towards Furihata's direction, and the boy immediately shrunk back into the shower space. Hoping that the woman didn't see him. 

She didn't. She turned back and muttered something. It shouldn't be audible but since the locker room has lovely acoustics he heard, albeit a little unclearly, what Momoi's words are: "Where is Riko's training diary?"

She thought this bag was Riko's...? Not surprising, but training diary...? 

It finally made sense to Furihata: Of course. Momoi is the information collector, after all. But instead of fairly collecting information, she goes around and looks at people's training diaries. The school guards probably let her in easily since she's a pretty girl who, quite frankly, looked a lot dumber than she actually is.

Furihata's anger flared. He took three deep breaths to calm himself, planning in his head how to punish the bloody thief.

"Hmm, this is Kagamin's?" Momoi's voice rang innocently outside, "Riko-chan should try to be more feminine! Now where's her training diary...ahh, I guess I'll have to look through everyone's bags since Riko's such a tomboy."

Don't casually look through other people's bags! Furihata felt his anger boil over. He slipped the shower curtain open with remarkable silence as he grabbed the nearest object--a bar of soap--and aimed at the pink-haired girl. 

The occipital lobe is located in the back of the brain, Furihata recalled from his biology lecture, it is primarily responsible for visual information. A bit above it will be the lateral lobe which contains the sensory strip, and a bit below it is the midbrain which in turn connects the cerebellum which is responsible for the basic bodily functions. Aiming for the occipital lobe should surely knock the damn spy out.

Okay. Furihata aimed. 3, 2, 1. 

The far of soap flew out of his hand and landed right on Momoi's head with a slight "boom", effectively knocking out the girl.

Furihata jumped out of the shower and bent over to pick up the soap. After making sure that she is only unconscious but not dead, he did a little dance in pride before he noticed that he was still naked despite anything. 

He decided to put some clothes on.

While he slid some clothes on, he silently contemplated his next course of action as he looked at the unconscious girl. He could go out and tell everyone, but they'll just let her go with a few admonishments and that couldn't possibly satisfy Furihata's angry brain. 

He grinned when he thought of a plan.

\--

"Good work today!" Riko announced, "now go back and change."

The entire team was panting heavily, barely able to stand. Suddenly they were jealous of Furihata, but they quickly dispelled that thought. Furihata had a legitimate reason to skip practice--god knows how long he had to stay up last night to finish his work, and they are disrespecting him by comparing their lazy arses with such a hardworking child.

"Ahh I'm bust..." Fukuda exhaled as he opened the door to the locker room. The rest of the team followed. As he walked over to his locker, the first year froze. Everybody following him almost tripped over, and Kagami was about to scream at him when he froze as well at the sight.

The very busty, very beautiful manager of the Touou basketball team, Momoi Satsuki is tied to the bench with...medical tape? Her mouth was covered, and the girl's face was stained in tears as she tried to free herself from the binds to no avail. Her skirt was crumpled and ridden improperly high, and she tried to cry for help but the tape prevented her from doing so. Her eyes doubled in size as the boys came out, and she waved her body left and right to try and free the binds but this only resulted in the bench flipping over and her head coming into direct contact with the ground. She winced.

"Momoi-san, what are you doing in the Seirin boys' locker room?" Kuroko snuck out from under Kagami, looking at his previous manager with mild incredulity and amusement. More tears came out of the girl's face, and Hyuuga went ahead and removed the tape from her mouth. She sobbed: "Tetsu-kun! I only came to visit you and I was knocked out unconscious and tied to the bench!"

"EHH? One of our members knocked Momoi-san and tied her to the bench?!" Fukuda jumped forward, eyes wide, "Who?!"

The only person who could have done this was Furihata who retired early in Practice, but...everybody sweatdropped. Everybody knows that Furihata is ridiculously timid and fainted from just coming in contact with a spider, does he have the guts to do this? However, Kuroko and Kawahara were deep in thought. Both knew that Furihata can be very ingenious when angry, but what did Momoi do to potentially anger him?

Kuroko's eyes flickered over to Kagami's bag, which had been ravished. The contented were spilled out--seems like the perpetrator wanted to look for something. However, he can see that the wallet is in tact, so it's not money. Speaking of which, that bag looked interestingly feminine with the pink and rainbow bows...the person could have confused the bag to be a woman's? But the only female who would put her bag here is Coach...

"...Momoi-san, you were here for spying, weren't you." Kuroko's emotionless voice cut through the boys who were fawning over the girl, Koganei even offering to untie the binds. At Kuroko's sentence everybody sharply turned to the shadow, intent on what the boy's going to say about his previous Manager. He cleared his throat before continuing: "You sneaked in here to look for Riko-san's training diary, which made Furihata-kun angry and he therefore hit you on the head."

The entire team narrowed their eyes and looked at Momoi suspiciously. The girl awkwardly grinned: "Ah...ah don't make me sound so horrible Tetsu-kun! I'm the victim here!"

"We're leaving." Hyuuga commanded, and everybody else carried on with their changing process and quickly left the changing room. Momoi winced as Koganei put another piece of tape back on her mouth.

Before he left, Kuroko turned around to look at Momoi and mischievously grinned. "I'll call Aomine-kun tomorrow and he'll come to pick you up. For now, you'll just lie here and repent, okay?"

\--

"Say..." Koganei remarked as he hopped behind Hyuga and Izuki, "Didn't that scenario look like a porno?!"

"I can't believe Furihata knocked a beautiful girl unconscious and did nothing..." Hyuga looked absolutely proud as he walked into the sunset, "He is an honorable young man!"

"Or maybe he's just gay." 

"Koga, stop it."

"It's a possibility Hyuga!"

"Or!" Izuki beamed, "Furihata is into Furry Hentai!"

"...No, Izuki, No."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I don't hate Momoi--she'll be an utter sweetheart later, I just wanted Furi to chuck a bar of soap at someone XD
> 
> Thank you for reading! If you have an comments, compliments, or criticisms please don't be afraid to drop one! I really want to improve my fiction writing skills so please if you see something you like or dislike tell me about it.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Words and Irony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh I'm sorry for taking so long to update this chapter! I had lots of exams and I was also sick for a while D; Please forgive me for any subpar writing and plot development--I promise lots of action in the next chapter!
> 
> This chapter is mainly fluff and Koneko because I missed writing her...hope you like her!

Chapter ６.

Furihata skipped as he hummed happily, not caring that he's on his phone. He is quite proud of himself: the binds were made at strategic places and at a good enough tightness. Either Riko or Hyuga will try to scold him later, but no one on the team wouldn't have a good laugh when they see what he had done--the fact that Momoi was snooping around for information was clear enough. Perhaps it was a bit rude on his part, but Momoi... She had it coming!

"Wait, Kagami-kun reads YAOI?!" Koneko's gasp can be heard over the Telephone, "And "Shadow and Light" of all things?!"

"Koneko-chan, I just told you that Momoi Satsuki snuck in our locker room and I knocked her out with a bar of soap, but you're focused on Kagami reading Yaoi. Which," Furihata can't help as he grinned, hopefully not pervertedly, into the cellphone, "Is pretty amazing, but aren't you a bit concerned about my morality? Knocking out a woman and tying her to a bench in the boys' locker room?"

"Nah. If it were me I would have done something totally illegal like shove a knife into her heart. Plus you as well as the rest of the Seirin basketball team are all as straight as the ball you play so I ain't worried about our school getting a bad name."

Furihata sweatdropped: "...remind me to never get on your bad side, Koneko-chan."

"And remind me to never get on YOUR bad side, Furi. Like seriously, you knocked her out with soap? You have any idea how tough it is to grab a hold of these things? And to aim that correctly?" Koneko sighed over the receiver, her breath making fuzzy static sounds in Furihata's ears. She continued: "But Momoi Satsuki? Isn't that the Rainbowheads' manager in Teiko?"

"You don't remember who she is?" 

"Of course I do, Furi!" He can hear Koneko rolling her eyes, "I'm trying to build a sad backstory here!"

"Oh, of course you are, Koneko."

"Don't sound so disbelieving! I deceive you not--in my first year of middle school I was the manager for my basketball team, right? So one day Momoi comes over to our school during practice and charmed the socks off of the captain and somehow convinced him to give her our team's training diary. I was the one keeping it and, as far as I know, I ain't into girls so her pretty trick did not work on me--she didn't convince me that she only needed it for "collaboration between schools" so I said no to her pretty face and guess what? She bursted out crying and the captain yelled at me? Like what the hell, I'm the manager here!"

"What...what happened next?"

"The captain stole it from me the next day and our team lost at the next match. Ehh, not a big deal--we were going to lose anyway, it's just that the unfair use of her feminine charms rubbed me the wrong way, so glad you taught her a lesson, Furi." 

That's horrible! How can a team captain think so little of his team and pursue his own desires instead of the team? Furihata's heart ached for the middle school Koneko, a manager betrayed by her captain. He uncharacteristically hissed: "No offense, but your captain kinda sounds like a dick." 

"Oh him? Nah, Yuuji just got deceived by the pink-haired monstrosity like every other straight dude." Koneko laughed, "He got over it pretty quickly, and is now wonderfully homosexual with our then vice-captain Jiro, and, for your information, he is more of an "asshole" than a "dick". Honestly, I wish you could meet them! Jiro was a real charmer--well now he only has eyes for Yuuji-chan--and Yuuji is such a cute cheery airhead. They are so perfect together, correcting each other's mistakes and blushing awkwardly and all."

"...Is that the first gay matchmaking you've done?"

"Hmm...Yeah, now that you say it that way. Both Yuuji and Jiro confessed to me, but I felt like I would be betraying my calling if I separate the two lovers by claiming one of them as my own."

Furihata sweatdropped: "So that's when you started to make a habit out of turning your admirers gay?"

"Ehh, it's not a habit!"

"Takatsuki Koneko, every single guy that has confessed to you ended up with another guy!"

"It's not that I turn my admirers gay! It's that all of my so called "admirers" are homosexuals in denial!"

"Haru and Aki were the idols of the school!"

"Honestly, have you see the way they look at each other? It's because they are better for each other than they both are for me! I'm betting 800 yen that they are both confessing to a girl just to try and convince themselves that they are straight, which is just wrong on so many levels and downright disrespectful to everyone involved! They need to accept who they are and just get together instead of pretending to fight over some woman whom they don't really care about."

"You got the Miyazaki twins to go out with each other!"

"What's wrong with a bit of brotherly love? They both want it, and neither of them is hurting the other or the people around them, so what's the big deal? Once they got over the brother hurdle they're happy, aren't they?"

"Yamamoto Chihiro and Fukushima Shinjirou didn't even talk to each other before you got them together!"

"Ehh, but they're both in the orchestra so it's easy to just lock them in the practice room and wait for the chemical reaction to happen! They have so much in common with each other and really understand each other's interests while I don't understand a single thing about minors or majors or bass clefts!"

"Do you want to stay single forever?"

"I would much rather stay single than ruin a boy's potentially happier life with another boy!" Koneko's voice rang firmly over the phone, "Denying another's true happiness for your own selfish satisfaction is the worst!"

"...For some reason I'm touched." Furihata wiped a tear that sentimentally leaked out of his eyes at Koneko's last sentence, "this self-sacrificing spirit is so rare in humans nowadays, Koneko--you are a true idol, a paragon of kindness and heart!"

"I know, I know..." Koneko sighed melancholically on the other side of the call, "It hurts sometimes, the thought that my admirers are happier with someone else besides me--but alas, this, this is my higher calling that I cannot betray!"

Such suffering! How can she undergo it all on her own for the sake of somebody else? Wiping another tear from his eye with his sleeve, Furihata firmly declared:"Koneko, your honourable deeds will not be forgotten." 

The man sitting to Furihata's right stared quizzically at the strange turn of events, lifting one of his eyebrows as the brunette's face turned from conniving to shock, incredulity, and grateful within a couple of minutes and furrowed the other at the content of the conversation, or what he could hear of it. The bystander decided to turn back to his newspaper after the boy awkwardly grinned at him, but not before shooting him a curious look that basically asked "I would like some context for this?". However, the man did not question further, and returned to his previous activity.

"Furi?" Koneko's worried voice snapped him out of his reverie, "Are you there?"

"Ahh no, a little distraction got in my way, what were you saying?"

"Ahh, don't worry about it, I was just lamenting the fact that I couldn't pair you up with anyone."

"Ehh?! I was perfectly happy being the exception!"

"The exception my arse! You think I couldn't recognize a boy in love with another boy when I see one? I'm so angry that I don't know who this guy is, because if I did I would have set you two up already!"

"He doesn't go to our school, Koneko..." Furihata sighed before his eyes widened as he realized his mistake. He nearly shrieked as he tried to not give Koneko any more hints: "It, It's not like I like him or anything!"

"Not at our school then, ehh~" God, he can hear Koneko smirking over the phone, "hmm...Is it someone at basketball?"

"No!"

"So yes, then. The only match I didn't go to is the Rakuzan match...could it be someone from the Rakuzan basketball team...?"

"No! I mean Yes! God, I mean no!"

"Ahh, he lives in Kyoto too...so Rakuzan basketball team..." Oh god, Koneko is probably grinning like Cheshire over there, "Hmm...Let me gue--" 

Koneko didn't even finish her sentence before Furihata's mind blanked and he flailed his arms in panic. He can't have Koneko finding out about Akashi! If she knew about them she'll be so adamant about getting them together that it'll be impossible to get over him! His face turned to the red of tomato sauce as he felt his entire being turn into spaghetti, his strength dripping as slipping away from him amidst the daze as he collapsed onto the nearest bench. 

Furihata continued to panic around red-faced for a while before he realized that he had accidentally pressed the "end call" button. Breathing heavily as he rested his head on his arms which are in turn resting on his knees, he stared into the grey concrete ground while his heart pounded his consciousness with every violent beat. He took air in and out slowly, trying to calm his heartbeat, but he almost screamed on the inside as his mind twirled round and round with fear and embarrassment: Jesus, how old is he? He's way past the age to turn into a mess whenever his crush is mentioned. 

He's going to get rejected anyway...so he might as well keep it a secret and save himself the shame and heartbreak.

...Man, even though he knew that, the truth still hit him hard like a bucket of cold water. Furihata chuckled sadly as he sunk into his position on the bench a bit further, the strong sense of self-pity effectively slowing down his dangerously quick heartbeats while a streetside band played an overrated pop song a couple blocks down from him. 

The traffic on the road beeped and bopped, and Furihata sat and sulked for a while before he decided not to host a pity party in the middle of the street and lifted his head up. The man by his side also lifted his head from his newspaper and silently beheld the boy with a mix of worry and "what the hell". Furihata grinned awkwardly again, and again the man shot him a look that asked for some context that he is unable to give before slowly looking down at his newspaper again. 

As he got up, his phone rung again. He looked down to see that it's from Koneko, and a part of him wants to shut out her call but another part knew that hanging up on someone is a pretty horrible thing to do, accidentally or not, so he awkwardly accepted the call: "Hey...sorry for accidentally hanging up on ya..."

"Don't worry about it, I know how you get when you are flustered." Koneko sighed, clearly having already forgiven him, "But you might really want to do something about those jitters of yours."

"Hah...I'm sorry, didn't really think I was that flustery..."

"Sometimes other people know more about you than you yourself do."

"Like Kuroko and Kagami?"

"Yeah." she breathily laughed, "Like Kuroko and Kagami. But Oh my god Kagami reads Shadow and Light?!"

"I know! I thought he was an innocent cinnamon roll but he reads Yaoi! Do you think that he becomes, you know, aroused by it?" Furihata couldn't help the hearts that emerged onto his eyes, "Never would I have thought that he thinks about these things!"

"See, I told you that Americans are more knowledgeable about sex!" She cheekily remarked, "and you think that he's an innocent uke!"

Furihata rolled his eyes: "Not all Americans have sex and orgies the second they're born, Koneko! Kagami's such a basketball idiot I didn't think that he would care about these things! Still he's definitely the epitome of innocence--I'll bet you eighty yen that he blushes whenever he thinks of himself and Kuroko in that situation and feels really guilty while he faps!"

"Oh come on, you know Kagami has more experience regarding this matter--people are pretty open about being gay in America, ya know!" She whispered leerily into the cellphone, "I won't be surprised if he had done it with someone in America."

"Eh? Kagami doing it with someone else in America...?" Furihata paused, Kagami doesn't seem like the type to do things just for the sake of it, but maybe he'll do it with someone he trusts? After all, American boys talk about experimenting, right? Somebody Kagami trusts...an idea suddenly popped into his mind: "Hey, don't you think he and his "brother" had something going on?"

"...Kagami has a brother?"

"Yeah, Himuro Tatsuya at Yosen. They're really childhood friends but they call each other brothers."

"I'm sorry, but that's kind of creepy." Koneko bluntly remarked.

But soon she sunk into silence, presumably in contemplation of the thought. Furihata thought about it again as well: Given how the Yosen point guard fusses over Murasakibara like a mom, he probably did the same to Kagami as kids. If you think about it, Murasakibara and Kagami are kind of similar in their personalities as well: both look really scary on the outside but is just a big kitten on the inside. Could it be that Himuro grew attached to Murasakibara because he reminded him of Kagami?

And given how upset Kagami was regarding their brotherhood's fracturing, Furihata supposed that he must have cared an awful lot for Himuro as well. It wouldn't be strange, then, for Himuro to step into the role of teacher and older brother for Kagami during his sexual awakening.

Hmm...it's strange, the boy thought, that Himuro would do something as rash as renouncing their brotherhood--he really looked like a calm guy. Why would he want to cut ties over something so small, after going through the effort of calling themselves brothers? According to Kagami, it was Himuro who had suggested the idea first too. Not just friends, but brothers? 

Speaking of which, isn't it strange, also, that someone would have the patience to deal with Murasakibara? Other people at Yosen can't seem to be able to handle him. Why would Himuro want to approach him?

Perhaps...he really wanted to establish himself as an older brother figure, both for Kagami in America and for Murasakibara in Yosen, so when Kagami surpassed him, both in height and in basketball skills, he became upset not at Kagami, but at his own inferiority. He didn't want Kagami to stop seeing him as anything but an older brother, as a person that can take care of him, so he wanted to battle it out with Kagami in a desperate attempt to reclaim his role as the caretaker?

Furihata put a hand over his mouth as tears broke out in a heart-breaking conclusion: Himuro Tatsuya has a need to take care of others, to be utterly perfect in somebody else's eyes, and when Kagami grew to not see him as the older brother that he wanted to be, his heart couldn't take it and that's why he left Kagami and found another person to take care of in Murasakibara. 

Or, perhaps he is trying to deny the feelings that came out of his heart after Kagami grew? He...he wanted to see Kagami as a brother, but what if that feeling of protection turned into something else when Kagami became capable of surpassing, became capable or protecting him instead? When Kagami grew up, maybe Himuro began to see Kagami as a tall, handsome man instead of the little brother that followed him and Himuro feels ashamed? And Kagami lays unaware of his feelings...or is Kagami unaware of it? 

Thinking of which, Kagami immediately called Himuro his brother, but then added "of sorts". Could it be that Kagami's upset because he knew that Himuro loved him but is stupidly trying to push him away and insists on thinking of their relationship as brotherly even though there's nothing brotherly about it?

"Ahh!" Both screamed simultaneously. Furihata fell back onto the bench while he heard Koneko's stuff spill everywhere. "It's your fault!" Koneko hissed from the other side, "Now I think Kagami and Himuro are kind of cute as well!"

"I'm suffering here too!" Furihata yelled, "Now I'm shipping Kagami with two people!"

"WHY, WHY would you put this idea in my mind?! This...this quasi-incestuous relationship!"

"The kind older brother who can't accept his younger brother's breaking away from him and the younger brother who might or might not be oblivious!"

"A love disgusting to none but themselves!"

"The...the intense guilt of falling in love with his brother even though said brother says there's nothing wrong!"

"Why can't they be actually related?!"

"No! The whole beauty of this ship is the fact that their love is forbidden to none by Himuro alone, that Himuro is broken, that Himuro needs to see Kagami not as a little child that needs to be taken care of but instead a fully capable adult! Kagami needs to step into Himuro's heart and tell him that it's okay to be weak and to let his little brother take care of him for once!"

"YES! YES! Ugh...NO KAGAMI YOUE DICK BELONGS TO KUROKO! Even though you look kind of nice with your brother...ugh, I fell so guilty shipping these two!"

"Dick?" Furihata paused briefly in thought, "Hm. I think Kagami's a uke in both of them." Furihata stated.

He can hear Koneko do a spittake, "What?" She screamed, "Kagami's a total seme? What's with you thinking that he's the uke? He's taller than both of them ya know!"

"But...but his innocence! Height and Penis size isn't everything!"

"Toothpicks can't drive firetrucks!"

"But it's not a toothpick, Koneko! It's one man's penis and another's anus!" Furihata stretched forward as he argued, "Geez, have you never had gay sex? Men's penis and anus sizes doesn't differ that much across the board."

"...Of course I've never had gay sex, Furi." Oh, yeah... "I'm a woman, remember" Koneko deadpanned, "You're probably the one that's going to have gay sex sooner or later here, what with your Rakuzan sweetheart and all."

Their conversation fell to an awkward silence as Furihata blushed, once again, the red spreading to his entire neck. They lulled for a while before Koneko finally opened her mouth again: "Don't worry, I won't look into him if you don't want me to, but if you ask me I really think you should just go to Kyoto and confess to the guy." Furihata was about to start when Koneko cut him off: "And don't give me the "I'm not good enough" crap. You're a precious treasure; you just don't act it when you turn into a flustered mess."

"Haha...Thanks I guess." Furihata laughed before he hung up. He turned to look at the guy next to him, whose face had turned to one of absolute shock. Getting up again, he quietly pitied the man--that was quite the conversation to overhear. Furihata lifted his backpack up and continued towards home.

\--

Furihata paused his walking in front of a familiar bookshop, and decided to stop a little bit.

The shop sits right on his way back from school, and even though there is really nothing worth noting about the shop's external appearance--just typical white walls with black shelves and a not-always clean wooden floor--the shop is one of his favorite places to be: The girls working here are really nice, always telling him about the shop's inner gossiping and asking him for cooking tips whenever he came over; there are also lots of frequent discounts: he brought Kuroko here once and the shadow left with 5 frozen dessert books after paying for 1, and Furihata thinks that's the happiest here even seen the guy.

The brunette walked over to a bookshelf labeled "R18" and picked up one of his published works.

Well, the fact that this is the only place he knows that sells Yaoi adds to the charm too. The store has a nice collection of books, contents ranging from ancient classics to manga, including both kid-healthy and kid-unhealthy varieties.

However, Furihata thought as he stared at a bookshelf next to the R18 section, is it really a good idea to put the books for elderly care right next to the Hentai? 

As he thought this, a man to his right was having a hard on as he, presumably, perused the pornography held in his hands. Said man leered and almost drooled as he finished the first book, and he made the move to reach for another one when his eyes came into contact with the poster for a book about erectile dysfunction in the elderly care section. An elderly man stood stark naked on the accusing piece of paper, his nether regions covered by the question "Are you ashamed of your penis?"

Furihata quietly snickered as the man lost his erection and put the book down with a stony expression.

Well, that's kind of unfortunate.

Furihata examined the book in his hands, his fingers dancing over the book's title "How did we fall in love?!". Grinning to himself pridefully as his eyes examined the little details on the characters that readers probably don't pay attention at first sight but contribute to the beauty and flow of the images as a whole, he flipped to the back of the cover to read the story summary even though he, of course, knew what the plot is.

"Hana Mako, despite his very cute name, is the very definition of the word 'asshole', and he knows it." The cover read, the words enclosed in a box that's decorated with gingerbread cookies, most of them angry faces that still looked cute with a dash of strange eyebrows, "He is a delinquent, a habitual liar, and, worst of all, a cheater who doesn't play by the rules even though his top intelligence can let him win by it. In general, he is horrible, so why did the transfer student, Teiyoshi Kippei, a man kind to the point of obliviousness, decide to fall in love with him? And why did Hana accept his feelings? Of course Hana rejects everything of Teiyoshi's at first at first, and plans to use his feelings against him, but as time goes by, Hana wavers and something else blossoms between them?"

Yep, sounds about right. Hana then opens up to Teiyoshi about the issues with his family, and their relationship continues until college during which they move togetherand Hana slowly, but surely, gets out of his old habits yet still keeps the snark while Teiyoshi spreads his protective wings over him.

Furihata slid the book back to its original position, and let out a puff of air in accomplishment. He definitely ships Kiyoshi-sempai with Hyuuga-sempai more, but that moment when Kiyoshi and Hanamiya's eyes met each other's at the game there was definitely passion there! Kiyoshi-sempai mentioned that he doesn't hate Hanamiya completely, and he did say that he thinks that the guy has his adorable points. Plus, isn't it a good ship, the honest guy and the dishonest thief? It's definitely shippable, so in a moment of inspiration he made a oneshot. 

(But only a oneshot--he can't possibly came up with any more inspiration for them)

His eyes then slid over to another, titled : "My little Mushroom." 

Sakura Ryouta was sold to a whorehouse as a child, and while working there as an attendant, he developed a personality that's timid and polite "An apologetic Mushroom" in front of others, but cruel and wicked while alone or with beings he deem unworthy. He bows and apologizes to everyone, including a certain whorehouse frequenter Aomineda Iki who is the head of a local prison. Aomineda is prideful and arrogant, and had no respect for anyone including Sakura. This made Sakura very angry, and he expressed anger on stray dogs and cats as well as on food that he made. One day, he was told to make Aomineda food, and he slipped some aphrodisiacs into the food which resulted in Aomineda having sex with Sakura and bottoming.

Aomineda then becomes enamored with homosexual intercourse and frequently visits Sakura for release, eventually willing to beg for his penis like an addict. Of course, Sakura sees this as an opportunity and traps Aomineda, intending the policeman to develop Stockholm Syndrome. However, midway through the training, Sakura develops affection for him as well and genuinely falls in love with the tanned male. In the end, Aomineda's family finds out about Sakura and persecutes him, and Aomineda becomes so saddened that he takes his own life. 

This one he drew after their first match with Touou, and so the plot is a bit...heavier than his other works. Ehh, but it sold great. The fans loved the sadistic Sakura, even though he kind of wonders why the hell the fans did. Ahh well, he's glad.

Furihata grabbed a couple other of his works, just to look at them. He sighed: He would love to have a collection of his works in his house, but due to the genre and the presence of his family such desires cannot be fulfilled. 

Well, and he's underage. Furihata sighed. There's something tragically ironic about being too young to buy your own works.

He looked at the rest of the shelf, and decided to read a couple while he's here--he can't really do this anyplace else. As he picked up a book from a particularly racy author, he looked at the poster for Erectile Dysfunction and made a mental note to look at it whenever he feels a little too steamy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I'm sorry if my writing here is a bit more horrible than my usual. I had lots of exams and very little of energy when I wrote this, as well as came down with a bit of the flu. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed this! If you have any comments, criticisms, or suggestions please don't be afraid to drop one!
> 
> Thank you for reading my humblr fanfiction!


	7. Finally!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry if my build has been really slow--I know some of you guys are getting a little bored over there, haha. It's been a really long time since I wrote Fanfiction so my pacing might be a little off. But Akashi finally notices Furihata and will have a moment of contact with him in the next chapter!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who managed to follow the story so far!

Chapter 7. 

"She had it coming! She had it coming! She only had herself to blame! If you had been there, if you had seen it! I'm sure that you would have done the same!" Kouki sang under his breath, trying not to dance as he tapped his foot to the rhythm of the following instrumental. He continues to hum as he made his way towards his house again. 

At first glance, his house is just one of the many grey concrete buildings on a rather economically nondescript road. However, an intriguing story lies behind every place and every thing, and while grand mansions tell their luxurious, fairy-tale like epics with expensive artifacts and impeccable decorations, Kouki's house sings its homespun tale with the soft geranium that rises out of the crevice in Ms. Sumizome's walls and the monarch butterfly that can often be seen resting its wings on the flower.

His voice was dissipated into the multicolored sunset as the blow of the carhorns and the laughter of children assimilated his little tune into their peaceful cacophony. A little zephyr danced past him, causing the sunny green ginkyos by the sidewalk to whisper and laugh with glee as their leaves rustled against each other, a few little green fans even falling on top of Kouki's head as he walked down the street. He stopped briefly to stare a little bit above the Gundous' living quarters where a beehive, barely larger than a burger, lies snugly beneath the roof. Its bees are buzzing with delight while they took bits and bits of nectar from the wide array of flowers in Mrs. Gundou's airborne garden. 

Mrs. Gundou is not happy with the bees, and have wanted the beehive gone for many years. It'll be (with one e, not two) a pity if the kingdom really is to be destroyed only for a human's small convenience, Kouki thought. Her kids are a bit older than Kouki, and the youngest son has just went off to college. He loved the bees, as did all his older siblings, and they begged their mother to let the bees live. The matron had reluctantly agreed at the moment, but he heard the woman complain to his father: "Kids don't understand anything! I'm killing them damn bees the day after they move out!"

"Kids don't understand"? Kouki begs to differ. 

The kids in the neighborhood had made a community doghouse for a stray dog they found in the parking lot two years ago. It was a mutt and had no name tag on it, so the kids just named it "The Dog". They had gathered together, of their own will, to provide for this being, and Kouki distinctly remembers being responsible for the doghouse which he made with his sisters with a little help from his dad. There is also a weekly schedule marking the person responsible for feeding, walking, and bathing The Dog each week, and so far no one had failed--the dog is still barking happily as it wanders the street for treats.

Speaking of the devil. The Dog had ran up to him, tail wagging and mouth wide open. Kouki chuckled as he patted The Dog's head, signaling that he had no treats. The canine wined, but nevertheless made his way back to the dog house.

The dusk has thrown a warm, honey-like veil over everything in Kouki's sight, and he smiled as he looked up to admire the sun dyeing the usually blue sky with layers and layers of other colors, the bright white of the light source fading first into orange, then red, then pink, purple, a darker purple, and eventually the undyed blue. Not much can be seen over the many houses, but enough to lull Kouki's heart into a soft calmness. Ahh, he thought comfortably, it's going to be a great day tomorrow with no rain. Colorful sunsets always meant good things.

Every place has a story, and perhaps the story of Kouki's neighborhood isn't a particularly brilliant one or the most unique, but he is a part of it and the story is familiar, close to his heart, and utterly irreplaceable to Furihata Kouki.

Still humming, he unlocked the wooden door and revealed the simple inside. His cheerful mood immediately fell when he saw his mother lying limply on the couch, barely conscious while his father held her hand. At the sound of the door opening, Furihata Haruki lifted his head up slowly, staring blankly into space at anywhere but at the one who just entered, his usual face looking even more haggard with worry. His little sisters sat quietly by their mother's side, Kokori bringing their mother food that was left untouched by the latter's side while Megumi just kept her head low as if the ground is the most interesting thing in the world. 

"...Hey, guys? Is mom alright? W-why are you all so quiet?" Kouki feebly asked, mind dizzy with the severity of potential answers. All the ugly scenarios echoed loudly in his head as his heart clenched with fear. Please don't let mom die, please don't let mom die, please don't let mom die, he fervently chanted to himself as the rest of his family looked sadly at him in silence.

His father looked at Kouki sadly. Two pairs of chocolate eyes stared into each other and the elder Furihata immediately turned his head away at the contact, effectively hiding his face from his eldest child. The girls looked up with worry in their eyes, and eventually Megumi stood up to grab a tissue from a nearby tissue box. After silently walking over, she walked over to her father and waved the tissue in front of his face, her lips trembling with her own tears tempting to escape. "You'll have to tell Kou-chan, daddy." She said, her tone oddly calm for an 8 year old even though it quivered with every movement of her words.

The elder Furihata nodded, and turned to look at his son once more. His father's face, so like his own, is drenched in tears. He tried to open up his mouth, but then broke down into tears again as his eyes moved to Kouki's face. Kouki dropped his backpack, not caring where it landed, and moved over to sit by his father's side. His hands grasped his father's calloused ones, and he asked, as gently and as comforting as possible: "Father, what is wrong? Look at me, father." 

His father did as he requested, but couldn't hold the gaze long enough to open his mouth. He opted to bury his face into his hands instead, and sobbed something that Kouki can barely decipher. Everything sat still as Kouki's brain slowly processed those words and little by little came to understand the sobs and babbles. He almost wished he didn't as his body froze in shock, his own voice shaking as he repeated his question just to make sure he isn't hallucinating.

Finally looking up at him, his father repeated, tears aggressively jumping out of his eyes: "I took your mother to the doctor today, a-and he said that her condition has gotten worse, a-and that she would need new medication in addition to her current ones." He broke down, almost choking on his own tears, "W-when I went o-over to-to the pha-pharmacy I-I-I saw that the price of your mother's new medication t-totals to about f-fifty t-thousand y-y-yen each dose, which means about t-t-two hundred thousand y-yen each month, a-and her old medication h-h-had d-doubled in price to two h-h-hundred and f-fifty thousand yen f-for an en-entire month!" 

Kouki silently did the math. That would mean that the Furihata household needs to have 450,000 yen ready to treat his mother's illness instead of the usual 125,000 yen. His family barely had enough ability to support his mother's old treatment plan, not to mention this new turn of events.

His mother sighed, and tried to get up to comfort her husband. She was held down by him instead. Looking into his eyes, the woman sighed again and mumbled: "Seriously...Haru, just let me die already..." She smiled even though her eyes are not doing the same, "Instead of wasting this money on me, give it to the kids and get them a good education and a good future..."

"No!" The three children yelled simultaneously, "We're not going to let you die!"

However, Kouki's head was spinning. There's no way his family could support this. He cursed himself--how can you say this when your mother needs you the most! "Everything's going to be okay, father." Kouki forced a smile, "You can pick up some extra jobs, and Kokori can begin to sell her handiwork--we can also sell some of our old furniture. I'll try to draw more volumes--heck, I'll quit school if--"

Before he knew it, his father had risen from his spot and slapped his son in the face. Kouki's head banged roughly against the floor upon the impact, and he winced in pain as he removed himself from the floor. His left cheek swollen with his father's punch. 

Kouki looked up at his father, surprised at the anger in his face. The elder Furihata hissed: "Don't EVER say that you'll quit school. You'll finish high school, go to college, and find a good job and a lovely woman as your wife, you understand Kouki?! You, Kokori, and Megumi will get a good education unlike me or your mother, and I will find a way with the money. I'm the head of this household, and protecting everyone is MY job, not any of yours, you understand?!"

The children shot back, startled at their usually calm father's violent behaviour. 

His mother shot her husband a glare, and proceeded to scold him: "Look at you, now you scared the kids! Hasn't Kouki done enough for you to hit him?" 

His father's anger seemed to quiver and eventually fade. "I'm sorry Kouki." He apologized, "You've done so much for a kid your age and I-I-I..." He sighed, composing himself before he opened his mouth again, "I just feel like such a useless father and just so, so hopeless..."

The room sunk into silence.

\--

Kouki tried to do homework. He hissed angrily at himself as he tried to finish brainstorming his history essay. He is frustrated, partly due to his inability to focus on his work, and partly due to the fact that he is once again feeling utterly useless in the face of his family's difficulty. 

His mother's medicine has more than tripled in price. He probably can draw a bit more than he is currently doing, but his salary depends heavily on how well his work sells (Don't even remind Kouki of how his family suffered during the publishing of "The Lone Emperor") as well as on how much he sells. Kouki will need to either increase his popularity, or he'll need to start moving on to another field. 

He groaned as he tried to wrap his mind around the American Revolutionary War. Jesus Christ, who cares about why America and England broke up some two hundred years ago, and why the hell are they learning about them in Japan? It's not like he'll have to talk to a foreign guy and start conversation by "Hey so about the spat between America and England in 1776..."!

No, getting another job is out of bidding. He's never done anything else, and there are very few jobs he can do anyway that earns more than a manga artist. Kouki had gotten into this industry with lots of consideration beforehand, so moving on to another field is out of bidding too. He'll have to do something that will help his popularity--maybe he can convince Seto-chan to do a giveaway? Or get him an interview with a more mainstream manga magazine? Or...

Kouki stopped in his tracks. He really had his doubts about the convention, and still does. What if he'll get recognized by some paparazzi? What if somebody he knows show up there? But going to the convention will definitely boost his popularity, and there is a monetary compensation on top of that. He can even take Megumi on a field trip with him and give his mother some peace and quiet as well as take some pictures for her.

But he doesn't want to see Akashi...

He could sell some additional merchandise, as well as meet some of his fans. Perhaps if he sells the poor boy image well enough he can even receive donations from some very nice fans?

But he doesn't want to see Akashi...

His mother really liked Kyoto. Kouki went with his grandpa to Kyoto once, and he distinctly remembered the smile his mother had when grandpa returned with some confectioneries from a traditional tea house in Kyoto--it was like she was a little girl again. Maybe if he bring some of these tea cakes back his mother will get better.

But Akashi...

He sighs as he looks at the clock. It's ten already, he should sleep. He tucked himself in and had a very bad night of sleep.

When he groggily wakes up the next day, a thought barges into his mind as he sat up suddenly. He shook his head out of any sleep: 

Oh come on! There are more than a million people in Kyoto, what's the chance that the Akashi Seijuurou will pop up at a convention about Yaoi? Hell, he probably doesn't even know what Yaoi means! Even if he walks by the convention, what's the chance that he's going to recognize some guy he met at a basketball game once? 

He stomps over to his phone gallantly and dials his editor's number.

When the phone connects, Kouki doesn't even bother with the formalities. He jumps straight into the topic:

"Seto-chan, I think I'l accept the offer and go to Kyoto Yaoi Con."

\--

Two students stood in the Rakuzan hallway during the lunch period. Akashi stood by Mayuzumi's side as the senior squinted his eyes briefly at the list in consideration before finally breaking out with a conclusion: "...Aren't they all Yaoi authors?"

Akashi quirked an eyebrow at the belated answer. It wasn't what he expected. He sighed: "that does not tell me much, Chihiro. What is this "Yaoi" you speak of? I have heard many things about it passing through the hallways, yet have not had a good reason to research the topic until today. Is it an art style, a television program, or..." 

The rest of his sentence was cut off by the Senior's sudden, almost maniacal laughing. Barely able to stand, the taller man wobbled back and forth and hit one too many people in his laughter, getting the stares of many people in the hallway. Akashi rolled his eyes, and doesn't even bother to apologize for his basketball teammate's impudence, opting to stare blankly at him instead.

Mayuzumi laughs for what felt like a good half an hour before he managed to choke out with an uncharacteristic grin: "Aww Sei-chan's so innocent~"

Akashi raises one eyebrow as his eyes glow in anger: "Explain what 'Yaoi' is to me right now, Chihiro." Mayuzumi bursts out in another fit of laughter as he dares to stretch a hand out to rub Akashi's hair: "Haha as I thought Akashi's scary but he's still an innocent first year...."

"Chihiro, answer me."

"Hahaha no."

"Mayuzumi Chihiro, obey me right now. Tell me what Yaoi is." Chihiro stopped his thundering laughter and managed to look somewhat scared, until the last part during which he bursted into laughter, again. Akashi's anger flared and his eyes glowed--one does not disrespect him. With a swift movement he tripped Chihiro, who fell over but for some reason is still laughing. Akashi wanted to step on the insolent man and say "know your place", but resisted the urge as he looked around him and saw everyone in the hallway looking at him with an odd look on their faces. He groaned, and stared down at Mayuzumi who's wearing quite the smirk.

"If you want to know what Yaoi, go ask Mibuchi," the senior got up and chuckled, "I ain't gonna spoil the innocence of a kouhai right before I graduate."

"Ehh, did you say my name Chi-chan?" said black-haired boy seemingly came out of nowhere. The first year quirks an eyebrow: has their sleeping with each other caused them to exchange their abilities? The silver haired male has gotten better at shooting, while Reo seemed to have acquired his lover's low sense of presence. 

Mayuzumi tried to sneak away from the conversation, but Reo caught him using one hand while he looked at Akashi with blinking eyes. "Do you have a question for me, Sei-chan?" Reo said, moving himself as well as the senior closer to their basketball captain. Mayuzumi snorted.

"Akashi here doesn't know what "Yaoi" is." Mayuzumi smirked, and Reo seemed to be so shocked that his eyeballs nearly bursted out of his sockets. The tall shooter's cheeks flushed and his lips rode up, and as hard as he tried he couldn't contain the grin that's climbing onto his face. Akashi was frustrated: What is yaoi? He stared at Reo, who covered his flushing face with his right hand as he dared to ruffle Akashi's hair with his left hand. "Ahh, nee-san shouldn't contaminate my innocent Sei-chan like this..." He sighed dramatically.

"Innocent?" Mayuzumi roared, "Dude, don't you remember him tying up that poor first year in the bathroom a week ago?"

"Ahh, that was Sei-chan just being Sei-chan~" Reo chuckled, continuing to mess up Akashi's hair, "Sei-chan, don't ask about it, okay~? It's adult stuff, and you should not spoil your innocence by asking such perverted questions, chuu!"

His hair is messed up, and he is losing his authority. Having had enough of this nonsense, Akashi's lips curled up into a smirk: "Oh? What an interesting choice of words, Reo. Shall I remind you of my "innocence" by showing you my collection of scissors?" He hissed, and he reached into his pocket to bring out a pair of scissors. 

The glint of the blades told both Mibuchi and Mayuzumi to promptly shut the hell up. 

\---

Since the hallway was grating on Akashi's nerves and apparently the conversation was going to be very "adult-oriented", the three moved to the rooftop for privacy. 

Chihiro sighed with fake pity as the gang moved to the rooftop, chilly wind blowing melodramatically through his silver hair: "It's so ironic that you of all people don't know this word, Mr. I've-slept-with-the-entire-basketball-team-and-turns-half-the-men-who-look-at-me-gay-on-a-daily-basis."

Akashi frowned: "I'm just an attractive male who happens to be very sexually active, do you have a problem with that, Chihiro?" 

The senior didn't say anything but his face said other wise. Reo gave him a glare, before opening his own mouth.

"Why shouldn't he sleep around~? God I'm aroused just thinking about his technique." Reo purred, almost moaning under Akashi's familiar gaze, "It would be a waste if he didn't sleep around."

"Well thank you Reo."

"Oh, it's the truth, Sei-chan! Speaking of which, how was Nebuya?"

"Oh Eikichi? He was very good. Very vocal. His physique only added more to the thrill. I rather enjoyed my time with him but I won't go in bed with him again."

"And with that you can finally claim that you've indeed slept with the entire Rakuzan basketball te--Ehh?! But if you were happy with him why wouldn't you want to spend time with him again?"

"I'm not planning on sleeping around anymore, Reo." Akashi stated, "It's a promise with my father." 

Blinking confusedly for a moment, Reo's brows furrowed: "Ehh, your father? Didn't you always say that you'll cut him down if he disobeys you?"

"He did not disobey me, Reo. I simply returned him a favor, and have no obligation to do anything else he tells me to do."

Reo sighed, shaking his black locks back and forth. "That is such a pity, Sei-chan. You have the reputation of being so good in bed to turn any man in Rakuzan into mush you know..." he lamented. A noise was heard and immediately something hit Reo's head. Grumbling and muttering to himself, Reo looked at the object which came into contact with his head. It's a light novel.

"Chi-chan!" Reo cried. Chihiro turned to face his two underclassmen blankly.

"Don't talk about sex with Akashi while I'm right here." He calmly stated, face emotionless with just a tint of a scold. Reo's face turned scarlet red, and was about to pounce on Mayuzumi with a "you slept with him too, Chi-chan!" when Akashi coughed, bringing attention back to him. He tapped his fingers on the cold concrete ground: "Let's get back to the point, shall we? Will one of you perhaps finally explain to me what "Yaoi" is?"

He swore he heard crickets croak before Mayuzumi gave Reo a rude shove. Reo gave the elder a stare, then awkwardly chuckled as he turned back to his captain, "Ahh, well Sei-chan, this is a bit awkward...Yaoi is, well... it's basically a synonym for gay sex in the anime and manga world."

"Gay sex?"

"Yes. Manga that have gay sex are generally called Yaoi manga, and anime containing gay sex are typically called yaoi anime. Well, I guess it doesn't have to be sex, it can just be two homosexuals falling in love with each other."

"I see...so these authors whom my father has told me to investigate all specialize in drawing manga containing male homosexuality?" Akashi took out the list his father gave to him. Rolling his eyes, the redhead groaned: "So my father has hosted a convention for...these types of artwork."

He handed the list to Reo, who seems barely coherent as he stared at Seijuurou incredulously.

"Y, your father?!"

"My father is funding a manga convention and he recommended that I read these people's works to understand the industry." The shorter male sighed, "So he basically wants me to write and give a speech about the appreciation of homosexual intercourse...My father's sense of humor is lovely as always."

He ignored a certain senior's snarky remark about how his father's sense of humor is no better than his own while Reo just rolled his head back in shock, resting his head on the wall as he mindlessly grumbled: "Why the hell does Sei-chan's dad read Yaoi...". He took over the list Akashi had just taken out and half-mumbled to himself, examining each of the names: "Ahh, the artists on here are definitely pretty softcore, though. Yamamoto Mori...she's mainly a doujinshi artist...Nasumari Kiregi...her work centers around the same couple, which is cute but can get a bit boring...ahh Furiha Kou..."

Akashi impatiently banged on the ground, snapping the mumbling male out of his reverie. "Would you be so kind as to recommend me some of their key works, Reo?" He demanded, and Reo's previously furrowed brows immediately spreaded out in an expression of extreme happiness while Akashi realized, too late, that he had made a mistake. The redhead almost shrinked back into a wall when Reo's eyes turned into hearts and the taller male violently rubbed his black hair against Akashi's red.

"Oh my, of course!" He squealed, "Kusanagi Matoko definitely has the hottest sex scenes, but ahh, her plot often doesn't make much sense, but that's okay! The sex is best in "My 18th birthday"! I highly recommend it to get you hot and bothered!" Reo opened his bag rapidly and a tiny booklet was consequently shoved into Akashi's arms, "Ooh, or if you're interested in sweet stories Hidetaka-sensei is the one for you! I recommend "Free at last" to make you cry like a waterfall, but as I thought Sei-chan's not the type, ehh? But..."

He continued on and Seijuurou doesn't even bother to listen to his shooter anymore as he examined the mangas shoved into his lap. He doesn't really read mangas, to be honest, for he has always believed that their stories were too idealistic and morals too shallow in comparison with the classic works of literature. However, he will agree with his father that it is indeed a rising field. He flipped through one of the booklets to its first page, and started perusing the pages. He lifted one eyebrow in surprise when he stumbled across the first sex scene.

Flipping back and forth a couple times, he affirmed that, indeed, he is only on the 10th page. Akashi read back and started paying more attention to the plot, but it didn't help him in his endeavour a whole lot: apparently these two met in a hair salon and as one of them went home the other proclaimed that he loves the other and then...

"Well, that progressed rather quickly." Seijuurou mumbled to himself, and the giant black-haired man on him stopped in the midst of his jubilee to look at his junior and grin. 

"Ahh Sei-chan, that's just kind of a common thing with Yaoi. You'll get used to it." Reo cooed, rubbing Akashi's hair as he rambled on, "But out of all I most recommend Furiha-sensei' works! He hasn't been in this industry long, but I think he's the best of the best in terms of story, art, and character development! His stories tend to be a bit more plot-driven, and you really don't get a lot of sex but you really get attached to the characters! Ahh, but compared to other artists his sex scenes are definitely a lot more boring so it's not satisfying for seasoned readers like me! His most well-know work is definitely "shadow and light", but for introduction to yaoi I definitely recommend "The Beauty and the Beast"! Himu and Mura are so sweet and the sex is fantastic! Ahh, "the Lone Emperor" will do too as an introduction but the couple is kind of horrible and the plot is kind of slow and laden with a lot of character development ..."

Akashi looked at the final manga shoved into his hand. Furiha Kou, huh. He thought as he examined the cover--A purple haired giant and a crossdressing boy with black bangs covering one of his eyes. Apparently known for his realistic plots and settings...

...Do the characters not seem oddly familiar?

Akashi frowned with a slight furrowing of his eyebrows. He will do some research regarding this odd observation later.

\--

While his son was having a lovely talk with his classmates, Masaomi was trying his best not to yawn his head off in a meeting with his business associates. Haruka-san thought it would be a lovely idea to have a meeting during the supposed lunch hour, because she thought, for some reason, that doing so will somehow make business meetings less boring. 

(Yes, he is the CEO, but Haruka-san is a woman, and one does not simply mess with a woman that managed to climb to the top of the corporate latter and cut down many men in her way.)

Holding back a yawn, he stared at the speaker with faux intent, trying to mask the fact that he doesn't care about a thing the poor fellow is talking about. Yes, he found business meetings just as boring as his son did--Masaomi was simply just older and more seasoned in hiding his boredom. Masaomi also happens to care about his employees' feelings a tad more than his son did. It's a fault of his, Masaomi will admit, his tendency to be soft. Seijuurou scares his employees more than he does, which is kind of sad if you think about it.

His phone buzzed, and Masaomi secretly thanked whatever higher being that is present for the momentary distraction. Savouring it, Masaomi quickly drew the unlock pattern on his smartphone to reveal a new email from the convention manager. The title read a simple name: Furiha Kou.

He clicked open the email and smiled.

So Furiha Kou's coming to the convention, eh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how was it? I'll be trying to speed the plot up a bit, but if you have any comments, criticisms, or suggestions please don't be afraid to tell me!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read my humble fanfiction!


	8. The First Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Horrible grammar that will hurt your eyes.
> 
> ;-; I don't know why this chapter is so hard to write. Is it the letter, the contact, the daydreaming...? I don't know, but this is their first meeting, even if they don't know it yet! ^L^.
> 
> Thank you for reading my story and I hope you enjoy!

It's a Saturday morning, and the sun shone brightly outside of Kouki's window. 

Rubbing his legs in an attempt to awaken them from their previous slumber, Kouki stood up from his desk after a long hour of drawing. He's halfway through another book of "My Manager Can't be this cute!", and is planning to finish it after getting a drink from the kitchen. 

However, the boy hesitated for a brief second before he decided to open the barrier between his room and the rest of the house,on the way towards his destination. 

It's scary, how drastically the atmosphere of a familiar, simple abode could change with the knowledge of bad news. What used to be warmth in the living room had slowly transformed into coolness and eventually into something akin to ice. Every time Kouki went out the door for dinner, the tension in the dining room would be so thick that it's almost impossible to believe that he's breathing in oxygen and not some heavy metal like Uranium with every breath. In the beginning mother, being the cheerful Nightingale that she is, would try to cheer everyone up. But after a couple blank glances from everybody else, the Nightingale grew silent and a deadly silence came to permeate these dinners instead. As the utensils clink-clanked over one or two polite "thank you"s, Kouki can literally feel something heavy and poisonous sedimenting in his stomach and feeding on his energy while he put food into his mouth.

At one such uranium-filled dinner, Father announced that he had quit his job as an independent carpenter to find a more permanent one. Kouki had his doubts--his father hadn't done any other work besides carpentering and cooking for a couple of his buddies for free. The man apparently also had no idea of what he's going to be instead, but he said that he'll start looking. 

Since then father rarely came home, probably going around handing in resumes and asking favors. He had also stopped making meaningful conversation with anyone while he was in the house, preferring to just look down at newspapers for job vacancies instead with a scowl on his face. 

(Oh, Kouki's not angry at his father--if anything he's glad that he kept his promise and isn't moping around)

With father silent and mother ill, Megumi and Kokori have stopped bickering with each other over stupid things. Kokori began to look for work like her father, and Megumi perfected her crafting skills as well as replaced mother in bringing Kouki fruits and snacks. Neither of them smile anymore, and Kouki can't blame them--he doubts he's being anything close to the ideal big brother right now.

If Kouki had to describe the situation in his household right now with one word, it's "nauseating". Yes, it's subjective, it's extreme, it's overwhelmingly negative, but that's the first word that comes to mind regarding father's blankness, mother's silence, and Kokori and Megumi's seeming descent into depression. He hates it. He abhors it. He wants everything to go back to the way it was before, wants none of this to have ever happened.

But it's impossible, so he'll have to deal with it.

Kouki resisted the urge to sigh as he walked out of his room. He surveyed the room silently: his father isn't in, and neither is Kokori; Mother is laying on the couch, watching some TV while Megumi sat next to her, crocheting a red hat. Everything is eerily similar to images of broken families he had portrayed oh-so-many times in his works: the dusty couch, the empty table, the father who's never home, the mother who sat in front of the TV like a statue all day...

If he didn't have his Yaoi, he would have gone insane from this house a long time ago. 

I can't stand this, Kouki thought to himself as he grabbed a bottle of water, I want to leave, just for a while. Speaking of which, I haven't checked my fan letters in a while, haven't I? Perhaps I could use this as an excuse for leaving the house.

Kouki downed half a bottle of water, fulfilling his initial purpose before he went back into his room and placed his drawing tablet, his unfinished work, some pencils, and an empty water bottle to be filled at the post office--he isn't going to spent 200 yen on one bottle of water when that money could be used to better his family's condition--into his shoulder bag. Kouki then looked at himself, and groaned in mortification when he saw that he didn't bother to get changed out of his pajamas yet today. He hurried to his closet get a bit more properly dressed.

/--/

"You're going out, Kouki?" Asked his mother from the couch as the boy, grabbing his cellphone, made his way towards the front door.

Kouki turned back, not expecting the weak but ever so present grin on his mother's face. "Yes, mom." He answered warmly with a gentle roll of his eyes, "did I make a fashion mistake again?"

"I wouldn't say a fashion mistake, you just look like a piece of cheese. Wear those shiny black jeans I made you two months ago!" She pouted in her long pajama dress, "And why don't you ever wear the pink dress shirt? It's not too formal and its such a good fit for your personality!"

"Mom, what kind of men wear pink?" He, surprising himself, chuckled at his mother's antics.

"Sexy confident ones, Kouki!" Her pout grew more obvious, "Come on, just change those boring white jeans and T-shirt for some shiny black skinny jeans and the pink dress shirt instead!"

"Mom..."

"Come on Kouki!"

"Mom..."

"If you don't change I'll start calling you cheese-san, Kouki." His mother threatened, earning a squeaky snort from her youngest daughter that sat by her side. Kouki sighed, leaning against the door, and let out an exaggerated groan at the look in his mother's eyes before he made his way back into his room to do what she asked. 

As he changed in his room, however, a genuine smile climbed onto his face as he overheard the victorious laughs and whispers from the living room.

This entire situation couldn't have been easy for his mother to deal with, her being the one with the disease and all. Kouki chuckled a little in relief that she still had her nonchalant optimism and her desire to make everything better in her own little way. As he slid on his final garment, he walked out his room to see both females grinning ear to ear.

"Now that's what I'm talking about, Kouki!" His mother laughed, "you worry too much. Perhaps my vision of male beauty is skewed from watching all those TV, but I can say you are a pretty good looking boy so own that body yo' momma gave you!"

"you're just saying that because I am your son, mom. And stop watching yakuza shows!"

"Can't help it--the yakuza shows have the most handsome men and the most beautiful women!"

"I'm leaving." Kouki groaned in fake embarrassment as he opened the door, "Megumi, you know my number, right?"

"Yes, Kou-chan."

"Call me if you need me, okay?" He gave Megumi a serious look. The little girl nodded eagerly, her chubby cheeks almost bouncing on her face. Barely managing to not burst into laughter, Kouki couldn't help smiling as he said goodbye to the two and made his way towards the post-office.

/--/

The walk to the post-office was even more relaxing than he had previously anticipated it to be: after two days (wow, only two days?) in his house, Furihata didn't even realize how badly he had missed the voices of the outside world until the beeps, boops, bonks, ticks, tocks, and swishes enveloped him in a slightly overwhelming, but not unwelcome embrace the second he stepped out of his hous, eagerly reacquainting themselves with his senses and trying to comfort him amidst his current predicament. The boy appreciated it.

Currently, he is standing inside the post office, fumbling with the string of keys on his keychain trying to find the one that corresponded with his postal box. (Of course he's not giving his fans his actual address--he doesn't need stalkers in his life) Letting out a small "aha" in accomplishment, Furihata inserted the key into the lock for box number 801 and turned to reveal a mountain of letters inside. 

For some reason, most of his fan letters either were in pink envelopes, have hearts drawn all over them, or both. Furihata chagrined as he stared wordlessly at them. It's always like this...he mentally groaned. It's not that he had anything against feminine letters, but he knew that a significant percentage of his readers were male, so why don't they ever send him letters to free his eyes from the...cuteness once in a while? 

The mountain of letters ungracefully fell onto the white tiles with a small woosh, not loud but enough to turn the heads of everyone in the post-office towards him in mild curiosity--okay, perhaps Furihata's little yelp didn't help either. Some people rushed forward to help him pick up the letters, and Furihata can tell that they tried their best to react indifferently towards what looked like a million love letters as they handed them to him, but he nevertheless wanted to bang his head against the wall at the judgment that practically radiated off of them.

He managed an awkward grin as he stared at the letters, now placed neatly in his hands, with a strange mix of embarrassment and love.

As he walked out the post office, he cursively flipped through his letters. Most of them were addressed to "Furiha Kou-sensei", but there were a couple that just said "Kou-sensei" or "Furiha Kou" instead. There is one remarkably plain-looking letter confirming his appearance at the convention; another had a golden retriever sticker; and--Furihata raised his eyebrows in mild surprise--this one is bright red. The audacious colour of the envelope contrasted sharply with the soft pink and whites of the others. 

Furihata took the letter out from the pile as he stuffed the rest into his backpack. Deciding to stay in the nearby library to do some work for a while, he examined it a little bit further as he made his way towards his destination: the red envelope was ornately decorated with a thin metallic gold, and a very ornate "A" was watermarked into its top left corner. He briefly wondered what this "A" stood for--this scarlet letter probably didn't stand for "adultery"--and why it looks a bit familiar.

"Sorry." He quietly mumbled as he walked into a moving object, presumably a human. The person didn't mind him, and Furihata continued to absentmindedly move his legs towards his goal as he wracked his mind for previous connections to this strange envelope.

It was a while before it finally came to him. 

Ah! Furihata's chocolate eyes lit up with excitement as he recognized the envelope, his lips promptly curling into a teeth-showing smile when he did so. This was the same envelope that Masaomi-san, the only reader who was furious with "The Lone Emperor"'s ending, uses to enclose his letters in! The boy nearly jumped up and squealed with excitement: Masaomi-san was probably the only male reader who ever sends him letters, and even though the man's letters were simple in their messages there was an inexplicable elegance in the way he conveyed his messages with words-- Furihata even might have used a couple of Masaomi's words to heighten his writing grades--and the man always offered such valuable advice!

However, Furihata thought as he looked at the writing on the envelope, this does not look like Masaomi-san's writing. Well, Masaomi-san was older, and he did mention having a son Furihata's age (as much as it disturbed the boy that someone his father's age reads Yaoi), so...could this be from one of Masaomi-san's kids? Furihata quirked one of his eyebrows--that seemed rather unlikely, but not impossible given Masaomi-san's rather youthful hobby.

Nevertheless, he shouldn't open this here. He'll probably bump into someone again or, even worse, bump into a car and die. As if to prove his self-deprecating point, Furihata promptly walked himself into a wooden door and got bounced on to the ground, causing him to whimper in pain as he fell on hsi butt. He stared up accusingly at the heavy object which sent him flying, and realized that he was already in front of the library.

Well, ain't this nice. Furihata wondered whether the trip from the post-office to the library was shorter than he remembered or whether it just seems that way because he was thinking about the red envelope the entire time. 

This is the Tokyo prefecture public library and you don't need a card to go in. (One, however, does need a card to borrow books and other resources.) Kagami came here once for a project, and he commented that the building looked more like an American library than a Japanese one, basing his opinion on other Japanese Libraries he had been to. That's not surprising, given that an American Nobleman by the name of Mr. Jones sponsored the building of this library a couple centuries ago in the first place. Mr. Jones played a crucial role in Japanese history by convincing an official to open up trade with foreign nations, and is himself one of the first trading partners of the island nation. There is a corner in the library erected in his honour, and it includes lots of American literature as well as lots of American movies and comics. 

The large library was built out of limestone and supported by Greek-style columns. Once inside, a golden chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminating the room as well as the colourful portrait of...something that was painted onto the ceiling.

Furihata stepped into the library, intending to sit down somewhere and begin working. 

Looks like today's my lucky day, the boy thought as he found one of the fancy leather chairs empty. An electric candle sat on the glass desk, its orange flame wavering in imitation of actual candlelight. Furihata sat down and let out a breath of air in relaxation as he settled into the squishy chair, admiring the slightly dark atmosphere in the library. Honestly, it's a bit of a pity to do anything in this library besides drinking dark roast coffee while perusing a tome written in some fancy foreign language, but come on, Furihata wouldn't pass his English exams without Kagami, how is he supposed to do that?

He removed some objects--the water bottle that he refilled at the post-office, his bag of pencils, some spare paper, and the stack of fan letters--and placed them nearly onto the desk. 

After he re-seated himself, Furihata immediately reached for the red envelope and ripped the side open, effectively dumping out the letter. He unfolded the piece and audibly winced at the pink hearts drawn everywhere on the letter. He audibly winced again as he started to read the first sentence:

"Furiha senseii!!<3:

OMG!!1! I only found u 2days ago but Im, like, alredy toootallly OBSESSED!!!（‐＾▽＾‐） (灬♥ω♥灬)Ur sooo goooooood! U can draww and tell really good storys at the same time! Like ur works are like fairietels but all relistic and prety!(＝⌒▽⌒＝) U prolly didnt get wat I mean, r8? LOL IM SO RANDOM: Ur storys are so real,(*≧▽≦) but not so real as to be boring lol.

Also ur like so good at diskribing ur characters!!(*≧▽≦) Like I feel like I can talk 2 them & all, haha. I cry at Seishi's pain in "The Lone Emperor" (´；д；`) (I cri everytime lol); I LOL at Ryousuke being a dumbutt in "My Manager can't be this cute!"(灬♥ω♥灬);and I got soooo pissed off when Hyuupei swor at Mibuo when he onli wanted to give him luv in "The Queen's treasure" 凸(｀0´)凸. Y u mess with my hart so much sensei?!

Ur characters r sooo like my friends in middle school! (＝⌒▽⌒＝)Lyke Im not kiding--they r so similar it's scary, LOL. They all play basketball: R u a basketball fan or playr 2?(灬♥ω♥灬) My friends r famous in basketball and nuhthin else, so u prolly dont known them from aniwhere else.（●´∀｀）ノ♡ Of curse ur amazin and all, just curious lol.

rply plz（●´∀｀）ノ♡

From: Red."

 

...Well, that wasn't what he had expected. Furihata pulled his face into a grimace as he flicked the ungodly letter away from him, body reacting in a visceral expression of disgust. 

He shouldn't try to sugarcoat things: this person is wacko in the head and has none of the elegance he had expected from someone who used the same envelope as Masaomi-san. 

The boy was a tad disappointed that such a message was enclosed in this beautiful envelope. Oh, he appreciated the supportive sentiment behind it alright, if the various positive emoticons were of any indication--it's just that the person who wrote this apparently didn't have any sense of proper writing.

Despite the bad name that they seem to have, most Yaoi fangirls are decently reasonable and mature, perhaps due to the fact that Yaoi Fangirls tend to be a bit older than shoujo fangirls. In fact, most of their letters contained pretty good grammar and were very eloquent in their messages of support (even though Masaomi-san's messages hung pretty far ahead of them.). They are all very calm and thoughtful in expressing their opinions regarding the plot or other aspects of the work, and sometimes if the questions are short he'll publish them in his next issue. This piece of...monstrosity, however, is so excessive in its errors that Furihata feels an odd sense of second-hand embarrassment flow through him from just looking at it. The myriad of spelling errors, the disregard of formal speech, and the emoticons after just about every sentence were a torture to read, and he couldn't imagine it being easy to write either. He had seen his fair share of girl-talk, but...the amount here is so unnaturally copious it is as if the author wants to come off as an obnoxious stereotype of a fangirl.

Wait. Why would a girl want to come off as an obnoxious fangirl? Is this how she believed Yaoi fangirls to act? But if she reads and likes his works, shouldn't she be trying to elevate herself as well as the name of Yaoi Fangirls? That what Koneko tried to do for him--or...did she want to fit in? No, why would an intelligent girl want to appear stupid? It would make sense if it was a guy that's ashamed of liking Yaoi...oh.

Furihata smirked as he formulated his theory. He took out a piece of paper to reply, and briefly pondered the amount of sass he should add to the letter: The sender could just honestly be stupid, and he could seriously offend her if he wrongfully poked fun at her; he wouldn't want to offend the guy if he does turn out to be a guy, too. Hmmm...maybe he'll just add a little question on the end. 

Forcing his eyes to look at the abomination of a letter, Furihata grimaced as he read over the letters to determine the questions he have to answer. 

Okay...I'm a great artist...I draw very realistically, hehe I try...Oh yes love declarations towards the characters, The boy cursively gleamed as he went over the letter, they resemble his friends in middle school... 

...Basketball?!

His eyes widened: this person seemed to be a personal friend of the rainbowheads, or... is this a member of the rainbowheads themselves? This looks like something Kise Ryouta would write, but he did theorize that the person disguised their writing style to come off as a harmless fangirl.

What should he say...? Busy formulating his response, the brunette didn't see someone sitting a couple steps behind him, looking at him with an odd gleam in his eyes.

/--/

Breathing in the scent from his dark roast coffee, Akashi Seijuurou closed the book in his hand--Niccolo Machiavelli's "Prince" in its original Italian--and gently set the large tome aside onto a chocolate-coloured table in favour of observing the brunette sitting in a desk before him. Heterochromatic eyes roamed amusedly over the man as the cover glowed unattended in the soft light from the lamp shade, having already been forgotten the second Akashi caught a glimpse of characteristic scarlet envelope of his family. 

Well, the redhead had not expected his day to turn out like this, but this is nevertheless welcome.

Masaomi had some business in Tokyo, and the man brought Seijuurou along to observe and negotiate with a business partner (a remarkable amount of trust to give to a high schooler, Seijuurou admits, but he was not just any high schooler, and his father knew that). Anyway, the meeting between Seijuurou and his partner had progressed rather smoothly, swiftly resulting in a business deal that was slightly more beneficial for Akashi than for the other party. 

He might have terrified the other person into submission with the deadly combination of sophistication, intimidation, and a bit of seduction--one dissatisfied glare mixed with a smirk was enough to send his opponent into a sputtering mess, but his opponent was a nervous trainwreck even before Seijuurou opened his mouth, so it's a pity to not play with him a bit and get some benefits out of it, right? 

Seijuurou giggled softly as he imagined his father's exasperated response to that question. 

After he finished what he came to do, Seijuurou went to find his father only to see that he was still in what seemed to be a jovial stage of negotiation (He sometimes wondered how his father got as far in business as he did with that soft personality of his). The elder Akashi had apparently anticipated his son to finish earlier, for he quickly produced a set of pre-written instructions to this library as he listened to a brief, whispered summary of his son's meeting. 

Masaomi told the younger Akashi to wait in the library for him, so Seijuurou did. On his way towards this library this brunette man here, wearing a pink shirt and what seemed to be black leather pants with brown boots, dared to bump into him, and didn't bother to lift his head up for Akashi to see his face. Akashi had raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't stop to terrorize him because 1. he shouldn't terrorize strangers and 2. he hasn't gotten his daily dose of caffeine yet.

However, Akashi immediately recognized the man's distinctive outfit when he walked into the library a couple minutes later with a cup of Starbucks coffee in his hands. The pink shirt and leather pants effectively caught the redhead's attention as well as the ripped scarlet envelope that was haphazardly discarded on the desk where the man sat. This had caused Seijuurou to raise one of his eyebrows in contemplation: The only person whom Seijuurou had sent a handwritten letter to was the object of his study the past couple days, Furiha Kou.

Furiha Kou is indeed a very talented artist as well as an incredibly powerful story teller. Seijuurou has often found himself greatly moved by emotions imbued in the story, either through interactions between the characters or through unexpectedly portrayed details in the artwork. He was not expecting much out of this genre after reading through ten books of rather bland homosexual intercourse and cheesy romance, but Furiha Kou went beyond his expectations with his every work. 

Speaking of exceeding his expectations, what surprised him the most was the artist's characterizations. Like Reo had said, the Artist is indeed top-notch and very realistically relatable with his characterization of the characters. 

In fact, too relatable.

He'll be frank--he doesn't yet know what's the man's connection with high school basketball is, but there was absolutely no way that the author had no idea of the Generation of Miracles. Each of the characters in his works resemble a high school basketball player too much to be a coincidence, with the GoM showing up in extremely high frequencies with their "best friends", so to say. 

Akashi wasn't exactly angry at the author--He was just curious. In fact, the redhead could almost understand where the author's ideas come from. There were times where Akashi just wanted to smack some of his teammates on the head to stop the sexual tension that surrounded them and their current teammates, Ryouta and Atsushi being the first ones to come to mind. However, he chuckled as he thought, the guy really took his artistic liberties with some of them--what gave him the impression that Daiki would engage in a relationship with Sakurai Ryou, and be the bottom to boot? 

While he researched the author, Akashi found what seemed to be a fictional characterization of himself in a series called "The Lone Emperor", and to be honest, he was a little bit nonplussed at the a-tad-too-close-to-home portrayal of Seishi Aka (whose name, now that he thought about it, resembled his as well) and the struggles he felt. It felt as if he was reading an animated autobiography of himself, except that it's written by someone else. 

He had also rather confused over who his love interest was supposed to be. In the beginning it appeared to be a young brunette man who he only barely managed to recognize as resembling Furihata Kouki from Seirin, and the redhead had promptly spit out his water in a serious sense of deja vu--the only time these two ever were in the same place was during the two and a half minutes of Furihata being on the court. Nevertheless, when the plot took a sharper turn in the end and his character went for Tetsuya instead after tricking Furihata into jumping off a roof, he had frowned in distaste: the boy, as he was portrayed in the manga, was rather cute with his large, terrified eyes and fluffy brunette hair. He had a strong personality as well despite the ditziness--he was sharp, but kind towards the people around him. Akashi Seijuurou liked the boy--he wouldn't have minded courting someone like that, and even if he didn't he wouldn't trick someone into jumping off the roof. So why did Furiha Kou, who seemed to be rather proficient in understanding the rest of his personality, make such an amateur decision?

Back to the present. Akashi had sent the artist a letter to the postal box address listed in one of the mangas to express his appreciation as well as to ask some questions. He knew that the artist is probably rather close to the Generation of Miracles, given how well he portrays them; and that he is probably closely affiliated with Seirin--there are almost as much characters based off the Seirin team as there are based off the Generation of Miracles.

His guess would have been Kuroko Tetsuya, but the sight before him disproved that. Instead of pouting, however, Akashi was fascinated and decided to observe his target--he had wanted to see what kind of person this Furiha Kou is.

So far, he seems like a gentle, kind man who has this keen air about him. His way of sitting and posture screamed shy and fearful, but his body seemed rather well-built for someone who's just a manga artist--of course he's not quite as well built as Taiga or Daiki, but Akashi wouldn't be surprised if the man was a basketball player himself at some point in his life. The man appeared to be not much older than Akashi--he's 20 years old at most. 

As the man flicked his letter away in disgust, Akashi didn't feel anger. In fact, he even sympathized with him a bit. The redhead had written a proper letter to the manga artist and was about to send it when his mind made the horrible decision to have Reo look over it first, because the senior would surely understand any addition rules within the community better than he did. He didn't expect Reo to nearly scream (...okay, he did expect that part) and demand to fix it:

"You will scare Furiha-sensei, Sei-chan!" The shooter had cried with exasperation, "There's so much kanji in this letter that it almost looks Chinese! And by the way, why does everything you say here sound like a threat? How in the world do you make compliments sound so threatening? I don't usually send letters, but I sure as hell won't reply to this one--here, let Reo-nee do her job and fix this, 'Kay?"

Well, by "fixing", Reo apparently meant "make this letter the most ungrammatical piece of writing this country has ever seen". It took Akashi one glance at what used to be his words to nearly vomit into his mouth. Reo claimed that he's sure this is how "Yaoi fangirls" talked, but, judging from Furiha Kou's abrupt moment of utter disgust, this was not the case. 

Akashi Seijuurou felt a strange sense of pity for the man, even though he knew that he was, technically, the cause of his suffering.

Say, thought as Akashi surveyed his surroundings, this is a pretty nice library. There is a nice collection of books, especially those of foreign origin. A chandelier hung overhead, giving everything, including his target, a hazy glow. As the light from an electric candle on his desk reflected off of the author's brunette hair, Akashi found a soft smile climb onto his face as the author nervously scratched his neck with a giggle, mostly like due to a compliment written in the letter--so he becomes flustered when someone compliments him? 

How cute, he found himself thinking as the red climbed all the way onto the man's ears. It's not just about his mannerisms--the man is incredibly cute in his appearance as well. Akashi's eyes glowed and his lips curled into a smirk as he briefly contemplated approaching the man and just run his fingers through the soft chestnut locks or wrap his arms around the toned, but not overly muscled waist. 

Ah, the man has remarkable fashion sense as well--that outfit looked really good on him. Those leather pants fit snugly over his lean legs, not too loose as to look sluggish but not too tight as to look uncomfortable. The pink shirt seemed plain, but the beautifully cut piece of clothing accentuated his lean and handsome body with various folds while the color highlighted his, surely, charming and gentle personality. Both of these articles of clothing were wonderfully crafted; Seijuurou made a mental note to ask the man about his favorite stores the next time he contacts him, though he's not sure those clothing will necessarily look good on him--they seemed to be especially made for him.

He found his eyelids dropping lower and his smirk growing wider as his mind went through a list of the things he could do to the man, none of which were things children should be present for. The man was attractive, could you blame a hormonal teenage boy for thinking of various ways to make him pant and moan lewdly? Akashi only cursed the man for not turning over, for his face was surely as charming as the rest of his body.

Oh no, he was not in love. Akashi Seijuurou would often do this to various attractive people he found around him--fantasize about them for a bit and never to think of them again. Heterochromatic eyes roamed almost indecently over the author, not caring if he looks like he's giving the man the bedroom eyes. Perhaps he should go talk to him, but the man seemed so engrossed in his work and fan letters that Akashi didn't want to disturb him. 

He cares about his work--even more charming to the boy. Maybe Akashi will go do a bit more research about him and even strike up a conversation with him at the convention.

Seijuurou hissed when his cellphone buzzed, snapping him out of his reverie. It was a text from his father telling him that he's finished. The boy groaned silently as his eyes rolled indignantly, cursing his father and his bad timing before he finally rose out of his seat and discarded his finished coffee on his way out. 

/--/

Kouki stretched his back out on his way back home. He had done good work during his hours at the library: he had read all of his letters, and even replied to a few; he finished two books of "My Manager Can't be This Cute!" as well as a oneshot; he even wrote a draft of his history essay! Overall, Furihata Kouki was in a good mood--as good a mood as he could be in given the situation with his family.

As he dropped his replies down at the post-office, he quietly snickered as he recalled his response to Red. He was proud--it was the perfect mix of sass and kindness. He neither made fun of the bad writing nor insulted the poor guy's masculinity, but he did add a few hidden sarcastic remarks. 

He decided to stop by the bookstore on his way home to read up on Colonial America for his essay. 

Yes, it's the same bookstore that hosted his works, but he's not going to go and admire his works in print this time, nope. When he entered the store, he did not bypass the history section to go straight to the R18 shelves, nope. He didn't immediately cast his eyes to his works and see two guys reading them, nope nope nope.

...

Okay, maybe he did.

One of the two guys worn a greenish-blue jersey and had black hair in cornrows--Furihata didn't recognize that guy. But he definitely recognized the red hair and prominent split eyebrows of the other. "Kagami?"

The red-haired male jumped at his name. He slowly lifted his head up to stare at the source of the sound, only to sputter and chuck the book at the male behind him when he recognized Furihata. The other male glared at him with grey eyes, but returned to his previous occupation anyway, leaving the redhead a giant trembling mess as red eyes tried to stare at any place but Furihata's face. 

"Oh, h-h-hey, Furi." Kagami nervously stuttered out, "F-F-Fancy meeting you here."

"...uh...yeah." Furihata replied meekly. An awkward atmosphere quickly hung over both of them. He mentally berated himself for calling out to Kagami; Yes he knew that Kagami read Yaoi for sure now, but how is he suppose to carry on the conversation? "So...you like guys?" He asked.

"W-WHAT?!" Kagami screamed, earning another stare from the guy with the cornrows behind him, "O-O-Of course n-n-not! I-I'm just here to...to...uh...accompany Kuroko! Yeah, that's right!"

"Kagami, you are a bad liar. It's okay to like what you like, I won't judge." Of course he won't. He'll be cheering, "So...uh..."

"You won't tell?" Kagami's voice almost crack as he looked at Furihata with pleading red eyes, tears brimming at the edges. 

At that instant moment, Furihata's heart melted into a puddle and he swore that for all of his hatred against dogs Kagami Taiga can pull one of the best puppy faces he had ever seen. Seriously, how is he supposed to say no to that face? Ugh...I won't tell Koneko anything about this encounter, no matter how juicy it might be. Furihata thought begrudgingly as he nodded. Kagami spared one last look at his classmate before he buried his face into his hands and became silent.

Now Furihata felt like crap. "Come on, Kagami, You know this won't change anything between us. There's no shame in liking men." He softly whispered as he patted Kagami on the back, rubbing circles in the Tiger's back. While Kagami nodded as was about to talk to him, his eyes spotted something strange with the black-haired guy: He grabbed something and left. Is he going to buy that? Furihata widened his eyes in terror as he saw the guy's next action.

He didn't pay and went straight out.

"Uh, Furi?" Kagami asked, "Are you--"

"The guy just stole a book." Furihata mumbled silently, "That guy just stole a book and didn't pay for it!" In a moment of fury (F-U-R-Y not F-U-R-I), he dashed out the door, leaving Kagami behind only to see that the thief had disappeared. The brunette boy hissed, and tears came out of his eyes as he fell to the ground. "That book could have been sold for money!" He found himself crying, "It could have been sold for 700 yen and been translated to a new bracelet for Kokori or a pill for a woman in need! Now...now..." Furihata sunk into the ground, sobbing, "Now I can't have that money..."

A bit of commotion had gathered behind him, and the boy quickly rose in embarrassment, trying to furiously wipe away his tears. How old are you? He hissed, these things happen, Furihata!

"Furi, are you okay?" asked a worried voice, and Furihata turned to find Kagami by his side. He tried to fake a smile which only seemed to make the redhead angrier as his eyes widened in realization. He clearly wanted to chase down the thief and punch him in the face, but apparently the guy had ran too far, and the tiger has to settle for wrapping his arms around Furihata instead, "I'm so sorry." He whispered, and Furihata laughed.

"It's okay, you had nothing to do with it." 

"...Are you the author for that book by any chance?" Kagami asked, still not relinquishing his hold on Furihata.

"Yeah..." Furihata laughed, sinking into the Tiger's warmth. His hugs feel really nice, the boy thought as he wrapped his arms around Kagami in reply.

"..." staying silent for what felt like forever, Kagami finally opened his mouth again, "So I guess we both have a secret to keep, eh? Not...not that helping your family with your talent is anything to be ashamed of..."

Furihata nodded. Kagami apparently got the message and left the hug, which made the brunette almost pout--that hug felt really nice, and now he's cold. 

"Want...want to go home together?" Furihata found himself asking, "My home is only a couple blocks down from this bookstore--"

"Sure." 

/--/

It was a nice walk from the bookstore to his house, and he learned many...interesting things about his teammate on the way. Kagami is apparently a novice in the world of Yaoi and Furiha Kou's works are the only ones he have read--Not surprising since his works have been rated the best for introduction to Yaoi. His favorite work was "My little Mushroom" (which is actually really disturbing and makes Furihata question his innocence quite a bit) but his first introduction was "Shadow and Light".

"Kise made me read it because he won't stop ranting about how much I look like the main character." Kagami had explained, "I don't see how, though."

Ahh yes, of course Kagami isn't called Bakagami for nothing. For some reason he never noticed that all of these characters resemble people he knew in real life; not that Furihata is complaining, though--it makes his situation just a little bit better.

After saying his farewells to Kagami, Furihata arrived at the front of his house. 

He sighed, and took one last inhale of the outside air before he went in, expecting the heavy silence. However, when he went inside he saw the entire family, complete with father and Kokori, seemingly happily situated around the dining table. Megumi was giggling over something, and father affectionately rubbed her head while he spoke something to mother with a grin on his face. Kokori was serving the soup when she caught sight of her older brother at the door. The girl yelled: "Kou-nii, come in!", waving around the ladle with a smile on her face.

Kouki couldn't help smiling at his family's happiness. "Hey guys, what's the good news?" He inquired, slinging his bag onto a nearby couch. The entire family looked at each other, big eyes staring into small ones before Kokori broke the silence, puffing out her chest in pride: "I found a job!"

"Eh? That's great!" Kouki beamed in pride at his little sister, "where?"

"A waitress in a nearby restaurant!" 

"My baby sister's all grown up~" Kouki sighed, shaking his head in nostalgia, when Kokori poked him harshly and pointed to father. "Father, don't you have something to tell Kou-nii too?" She glared at the man in question, who nodded his head in acknowledgement of her efforts.

"And I have gotten a job as a cook in Kyoto." His father announced, "And yes, I'm probably going to be away most of the time, but the pay's good." His expression fell a bit, but quickly bounced back. However, Kouki saw the lingering worry in his eyes as he looked at his eldest child.

"Ahh don't worry about it, dad!" Kouki smiled, trying to cease his father's worry, "I'll take good care of everyone, you just do whatever you can to help, alright?" Kokori also chimed in: "That's right--I'll help too, dad. Now that Kou-nii's here, let's eat before the food gets cold!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The letter was seriously the worst thing I have ever done to myself. It took me an hour to make it sound the way it did and might have caused me actual physical pain. ;-; Speaking of which, would you guys be so kind as to do me a favor? Both Furi and Sei will make some mistakes before they get together, and do you guys want Furi's first relationship before Akashi to be healthy or unhealthy? Not a strict vote, just wondering about you guys' opinion...
> 
> Thank you for reading my humble fanfiction! If you have any suggestions, criticisms, or comments please do drop a comment. ^-^ Thank you!


	9. The Life of Akashi Seijuurou: pt 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry for taking such a long time to update this--I was on vacation with my mother to Miami, and didn't really have a lot of time for writing. I loved the city, though! (I might or might not write somebody inspired by it)
> 
> But on a sad note, I had to write this chapter not once, not twice, not even three times--I had to write this chapter 4 times! ;-; Bad computer is bad, so sorry if I lost the desire to edit this...

Masaomi waited impatiently for his son, frowning and crossing his arms as he sat back into the rather comfortable seat of his black Audi. His car was parked conveniently (and questionably legally) in front of the library, and the man would really appreciate it if Seijuurou came out and saved him the fear of getting a ticket and being stared at by various passerbys.

Unfortunately, that was not his son's wishes. Masaomi groaned and sat back into his seat.

The elder Akashi allowed a sense of nostalgia to wash over him as he studied the various details on the Greek Columns, Ionic to be exact. Well, this is a really nice library, so perhaps Seijuurou got lost admiring the interior decoration, Masaomi mused.

Unlike his son, Akashi Masaomi actually had to study to get a good grade. When he went to University in Tokyo, long before Seijuurou was born, he would spend hours on an end doing homework and reading books in this exact library. It wasn't like he really had anything better to do anyway; the only true friend he had in University was Midorima Shinobu, Midorima Shintarou's father, and he wasn't the particularly sociable type either (it sometimes amused him how much Shintarou resembled his father in comparison to how little Seijuurou resembled him) so the primary social activity the Masaomi had in his university years was study sessions with Shinobu in this library.

It was in this library that Masaomi saw Shiori, Seijuurou's mother. She had been looking for a book, and her red hair had flown so beautifully while her foot skittered around the shelves. 

Masaomi almost chuckled at the fond memory--the lighting from the chandelier always managed to make the ordinary seem more ordinary and the beautiful more so. 

He had been utterly mesmerized by the ethereal glow of her existence and promptly blushed like a madman when the girl cast her red eyes his way. At that time, Masaomi was utterly convinced that Shiori was out of his league, but the girl made the first move and started talking to him being, as Masaomi learned later, the more sociable one in their relationship. 

Eventually Masaomi began his first and only relationship with her. He secretly envied her openness, charm, and sensitivity--maybe if he had those traits he wouldn't have landed himself in this awkward situation with his son. 

"I wonder if Seijuurou is busy finding the love of his life in there." Masaomi soliloquized with amusement as he continued to stare at the large wooden door. 

No, Seijuurou probably got lost in a book or something.

Speaking of getting lost in books, the elder Akashi is beginning to feel a little bit conflicted over his initial decision to let Seijuurou deliver the opening speech. He only wanted to see that son of his flustered for the sake of... bragging rights, is that what the young ones say? He didn't really expect his son to actually go through with this and do research and begin to write him a draft of the speech. 

Masaomi supposes that he enjoyed seeing his son taking pleasure in the same things he took pleasure in...? 

...No he didn't. It's downright disturbing to see your son pouring over your favorite homosexual mangas, even if said son is homosexual.

To make things worse, Seijuurou apparently went into his personal library and found out about Masaomi's adoration for Furiha Kou. Masaomi shuddered at the memory: the younger Akashi had given his father the filthiest smirk he had ever seen and held the incriminating object between two long fingers; the low, teasing tone he used as he made a nonchalant remark about Masaomi's interest in these things almost made the man hurl the nearest object at him in embarrassment.

(Almost, because the nearest object was a pair of scissors and probably part of his son's way-too-big collection)

Looking at the entrance again, Akashi Masaomi groaned--just what is his son doing in there? He started in mortification as his fatherly mind went through a list of possibilities: Is... Is Seijuurou impregnating someone? He...he did say he preferred men, and Masaomi indeed had never seen a woman in his son's bed despite his son's promiscuity but what if he actually liked women? What if he actually liked both? Or what if Seijuurou's actually impregnating a man?! True, there have been no cases of male pregnancy by males, but if there's one man in this world that can impregnate everything it's going to be Akashi Seijuurou. I mean, if he can charm his way into various men's pants he can surely charm his way into their uteruses too, right? Or...or... What if Seijuurou is the one being impregnated? What if another man is dumping his semen into his son and making Seijuurou bear his children? What if Seijuurou is a special type of males that can't impregnate and can only be impregnated? What... What if Seijuurou can impregnate males AND be impregnated by other males? What...what...what if he is impregnating himself in that library?!

"Seijuurou, you're not pregnant, right?" asked a frantic Masaomi the second Seijuurou opened the car door. 

"..."

The redhaired male stared blankly at his father as the elder man's gold eyes glowed vibrabtly. Seijuurou blinked once, twice, thrice before his brows furrowed in exasperation and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Father, can males get pregnant?"

"Not yet."

"That's right, n--what?"

"There have been no scientific data that conclusively prove the ability of procreation in males; however, very few things are absolute and there have been legends of men getting pregnant. You could be one of these men that could get pregnant, and in case you are I must protect you so let me ask you again, Seijuurou, are you pregnant?" 

"Father, what--"

"Are you pregnant?"

"I'm not a girl--"

"Are you, Akashi Seijuurou, pregnant?"

"...No, father." 

Children, this is why you don't leave your parents alone.

\--

After at least somewhat convincing his father that men, indeed, cannot get pregnant, Akashi Seijuurou fell back into his car seat with an uncharacteristic roll of his eyes. Seriously, how did the man even get that idea into his head--wait, Seijuurou doesn't want to know that.

The boy sighed, and chose to direct his eyes towards the ever-changing world that is Tokyo instead. He winced as the sunlight came into contact with his eyes; as lovely as the library was, it was a tad dark in there, which made the already sunny Tokyo morning just that much more unwelcome. I wonder if this is how vampires feel, Seijuurou thought. The boy tried to alleviate the burning by narrowing his eyes, and even though that helped, Seijuurou came to realize that, unfortunately, the unpleasant light isn't going anywhere and he'll just have to get used to it.

Well, get used to it he will. Seijuurou immediately darted his eyes towards the very reflective car window in front of him to try and get used to the sunlight, of course using the most difficult and direct method to achieve his goal as quickly as possible. He surely would succeed in fighting this weakness--he is Akashi Seijuurou, after all. If he can head the Teiko Generation of Miracles, what is a little sunlight to him?

Determined heterochromatic eyes stared fiercely into the sunlight, making a vicious attack against his biological responses. They stared directly into the core of the enemy, not relenting in the face of overwhelming forces proposed by the enemy as the rays began to unleash their attacks again the optical device. Oh no, Seijuurou is failing, he has to--no! He will not blink in battle with an enemy!

Unfortunately, the enemy's forces are vast and strong, and Seijuurou lasted a whole ten seconds again it before he threw himself back onto the seat in a fit of tears and nausea.

Akashi Seijuurou vs Sun, 0:1.

Hmph, that was a failed attack. Akashi shall admit defeat to you, sun, in this battle--but an Akashi is a man who learns from his mistakes, and Seijuurou is no exception. Perhaps I ought to try a more stealthy attack, Akashi thought, and he directed his forces--namely his eyes--to a nearby flower shop and focused his attention onto the owner's remarkably shiny t-shirt. That shirt looks horrendous on her--no, now's not the time to be distracted! Seijuurou shut his eyes for a brief second to recollect his forces, and immediately opened them again to combat their enemy a second time.

Oh yes, he's doing well this time. Seijuurou was about to mentally cheer at the victory before the familiar sensation of his eyes burning came to hit him in the face, or, more precisely, in the eyes. No! No! He will win! He will...argh..

Once again, Seijuurou fell back into his seat in tears.

Akashi Seijuurou vs. Sun, 0:2.

But he'll not admit failure! He was getting experience, and his solders--namely, his eyes--have became remarkably better at predicting the enemy's movements and attacks! Seijuurou shook his head free of the lingering traces of the previous losses, confident of complete and utter victory this time. He will--

"Seijuurou, you look distracted. Do you want me to close down the blinds?" asked his father from his left side.

"Shh." Seijuurou ordered, head turning sharply to glare at his father for interrupting his battle, "I'm engaged in battle."

"What--"

"Do not interrupt me in the midst of battle, father."

"I see, battle again who, exactly?"

"The hellish sun, father."

His father said something, but Seijuurou chose not to pay him any heed and he prepared himself for his third battle. He focused his eyes onto some knives. Okay, this is nice. His eyes are not reacting at all to the light. Seijuurou smirked as his eyes finally got used to the light, and almost pridefully looked at the whiteish gleam on the blades until they turned red.

Wait what, red?

The younger Akashi jumped back in surprise and looked above. "Butcher shop" the shop's sign clearly read. After taking some times to digest, Seijuurou looked back down to his previous object of focus with horror only to be filled with even more terror as he realized that the red was from a Chicken being cut in half.  
Despite what many may believe, Akashi Seijuurou didn't take pleasure in cutting people up. 

Just because he slept with a lot of people, had stellar grades, was beautiful with pale skin, and liked people around him to be good and obedient to him didn't mean Akashi Seijuurou took pleasure in cutting people up. Honestly, why do people think that?

Although Kagami Taiga might be an exception. It wasn't his fault--the man was too tall.

Anyway, Seijuurou was celebrating his newfound victory by looking around everywhere. His eyes jumped from one thing to another, from the granny to the person on a bike and to an exhausted looking boy standing before a girl with flowers behind his back.

Ahh, he noted as he observed the boy gathering up his courage to say something, he's going to confess and get rejected.

Even though his sexual conquests and, therefore, his sexual orientation, was pretty widely known around the school, Seijuurou had a quite a number of female fans and had also received quite a number of confessions from said fans, complete with cookies, art, and various pieces of poorly written poetry. All of those girls, for some reason, thought that Seijuurou would take one look at them, fall in love, and turn straight somehow. They all thought--Seijuurou chuckled at the irony--that they would be the exception.

Point is, Seijuurou had received countless confessions and was by now an expert in rejecting confessions and telling when a confession is going to be rejected.

Looking at the girl's ambivalently awkward expression, the redhead pitied the boy for a second. His sympathy, however, ultimately lies with the confessed to. Everybody tends to make popular kids who turn down others' confessions out to be bad guys, but don't they have to right to love who they want, too? Seijuurou can't return the feeling of every person that confessions to him; is he obligated to take care of their feelings just because he's well-liked? Does he need to waste his time, as well as the unfortunate girl or boy's, on a loveless relationship just so the other won't feel hurt?

And going out with a person out of pity is just downright abominable, isn't it?

Suddenly, the car came to a halt and the younger Akashi's head slammed against the front of the car. "Ow!" Seijuurou hissed from the impact, "father, I hope you have a proper reason for so suddenly stopping, for if you do not I'm afraid I shall be awfully cross with you, even if you are my father."

"Actually, yes." Masaomi replied, pointing to the red light on top of them matter-of-factly, "You stop at red lights, Seijuurou--are you trying to argue that?"

\--

While their car ran peacefully upon a freshly paced highway, Masaomi turned to his son and suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, asked: "So what were you doing in that library, anyway?"

His voice rang stuffily against the silence as tall concrete buildings faded into and out of the background. The younger Akashi didn't immediately reply, opting to raise his eyebrow at his father's behavior instead--is his father trying to make conversation with him? Seijuurou slowly turned his head around, only to see Masaomi still looking at the road with both of his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. He seems to be insistent on doing that with his son an awful lot lately--something that Seijuurou didn't really despise but was nevertheless surprised over.

He didn't knew his father took interest in other people's lives. Whenever Seijuurou talked with his father about the private lives of their business associates, which was, to be honest, not very often, the elder would quiet him and state that he didn't care for other people's lives as long as they did what they're supposed to do. The younger Akashi admired that philosophy of his father's very much, and applied it to his own life. 

Admittedly, Seijuurou's case was a tad different, for he IS his son after all, but this Masaomi was very different from the image he had conjured up of his father in his childhood. Despite what their last names would suggest, Akashi Seijuurou didn't really know his father that well, and he suspected that the opposite was true. In all honesty, the 11-year-old him had always thought his father to be somewhat like a stereotypical villain in a James Bond movie, what with his disregard for family and love of power and money--which was why he was surprised when he saw his father try to play basketball (and fail hilariously with a bruise on his forehead) the other day.

It seems that Akashi Masaomi was genuinely repenting for the time he had been a bad father and was trying to make it up to his son by at least trying to get to know him better. Seijuurou wasn't opposed to helping his father in his goal, he was just a tad surprised by his desire to do so. But once again, he reckoned he didn't really know his father that well.

His father seemed like a truly nice, albeit insensitive a times, man. He had also been rather...cute in his attempts to lessen the distance with him. (Seijuurou shivered--he never thought he would use the word "cute" to describe anything of his father's) It's almost impossible to believe that this clumsy, stumbling mess of a middle-aged man is the head of a powerful business conglomerate, but once again Seijuurou knew the man was utterly ruthless--after all, this man is alone responsible for 80% of what the Akashi family is today.

Seijuurou would need to watch himself.

But right now, an odd sense of guilt was gnawing at redhead as the he felt his father sulking to his left. He silently sighed to himself, deciding to help his father out in getting to know him. "I was engrossed in a book, father." Seijuurou replied in what he hoped was a warm tone. 

It wasn't a complete lie--he did enjoy "The Prince" rather much, and would have taken great pleasure and promptly gotten lost in it if his father's precious Furiha-sensei didn't show up with the scarlett letter and a gorgeous body. Not that it wasn't a welcome distraction.

"Oh, I figured as much." His father sounded relieved, "which particular book?"

"Niccolo Machiavelli's "The Prince" in it's original Italian, father."

"You...you read that in your spare time, Seijuurou?"

"Well, yes I do, father, is that strange?"

"Ah, n-no, Seijuurou. It's just, that, well...the prince is not exactly what I had in find for what a modern teenager such as yourself would find interesting..."

"You certainly had no problem with coercing me into reading it as a child." Seijuurou barely registered what he was saying, eyes glowing in anger. 

Everything disappeared; all he knew was that he was annoyed over something his father said and that a wave of fire was burning him up, telling him to hiss and to incite a verbal battle against the other. A wicked sense of satisfaction came over him as his father's golden eyes glowed in shock and a flash of guilt--he didn't miss it--and at the fact that he was actually hurting his father. It felt like he was in an odd version of zone, his mind rashly deciding that it wanted nothing more than to say something even more hurtful, to cut the knife even deeper...

No he shouldn't, his father wasn't a bad guy, at least not anymore. Even if he deserved punishment for his mistakes in the past, it's not Seijuurou's place to give it. The younger Akashi sighed, and his eyes softened. 

His father, who had remained silent during Seijuurou's little outburst, finally replied with clear hesitance: "You were a child then, Seijuurou. It was my duty as a parent to ensure your proper upbringing and shield you from the filth that permeates much of our modern literature today. "The Prince" is a wonderful book that forms much of the modern study of political science and business, not to mention its beautiful language--making it a wonderful book for education and not exactly for entertainment." He paused, gold eyes looking into heterochromatic ones before he continued: "However, if perusing books such as these constitues what you consider entertainment, I am not one to judge and neither is anyone else besides yourself, for you are not what most would address as a child anymore and are more than capable of deciding what brings you pleasure and what does not. I am not able, and do not wish to be able, to control you forever, Seijuurou--I only wish that you can engage in more activities that improve your abilities and do not involve anything immoral and dangerous in nature."

The elder man had to take a deep breath as he finished this tiny speech. He closed his eyes briefly at a traffic jam, recollecting himself before opening them and carrying on with his duty. Seijuurou smiled.

"Really, father? Do you mean that?"

Masaomi turned to his son, a barely noticeable smile in his eyes: "of course, Seijuurou."

"You were quite opposed to me engaging in sexual activities with--"

"Nothing immoral and dangerous, Seijuurou. Sleeping around with your entire basketball team counts as both of these."

"Well, don't you have a way with words, father?" Seijuurou nonchalantly commented

His father replied, in a similarly nonchalant manner: "That's rich, coming from you, Seijuurou."

"From whom do you think I acquired my vocabulary, father?"

"Well, thank you very much for the compliment, Seijuurou."

"It's not a compliment, father." Seijuurou smiled warmly as he stated, "it's the most absolute fact."

Masaomi's head turned sharply towards his son, an odd flush on his cheeks. "O-oh." He mumbled half-audibly, flustered gold meeting cool heterochromatic for a brief second before turning back, blush just a little bit darker as he pretended to focus on the road. Seeing that Seijuurou's still looking at him amusedly, Masaomi coughed conspicuously before managing to choke out an "Thank you even more then" and hide that suspicious-looking flush.

He coughed again, and tried to continue on the conversation. "But I must ashamedly admit, Seijuurou, that when I was your age I had found "The Prince" to be utterly insuffrable. I had no idea how anyone could take pleasure in it." Masaomi remarked seriously, lips curving into a frown as he did so.

Seijuurou chuckled: "Utterly insuffrable, father? This basis of modern political science and business?" his father visibly winced at his comment, "I seriously wonder about how you became the head of the Akashi family sometimes, father." Seijuurou's cool heterochromatic eyes glanced over at his father, and he commented again, "No offense to you, of course, but I would have thought either aunt Misaki or uncle Aki to be better suited to business."

"None taken, Seijuurou." The older man replied, "In fact, I might even agree with you there. I do not understand why my father preferred me when there is the aggressive Misaki and the sharp Aki--I'm afraid that I am just as confused as you are."

"Is that so?"

"As far as I know, yes."

"Hmm." Was the only reply.

The atmosphere in the car fell into a strangely comfortable silence as both parties ceased to continue their conversation.

As the edges of the roads became increasingly lined with all sorts of trees, the previously blinding sunlight was broken and sieved through multiple layers of green into golden sparkles that tinted the usually stoic features a soft glow with a lively, lemon-orange touch as they reflected off of Masaomi's medium-length black hair. The older man's golden eyes glittered in the face of the sun as the he, briefly distracted from his driving, turned to observe his son who was in turn observing him as well.

This eye contact continued for a while until said son took it upon himself to break their eye contact and opened all the windows from his seat, allowing a chilly morning breeze to flow through the car. Masaomi glared at his son silently as the wind caused his own hair to hit him in the face, but didn't vocalize any disagreement. Seijuurou sat back and brushed a hand through his red hair--unlike his father,he enjoyed the feeling of wind running through his hair. He closed his eyelids and leaned back into the seat, letting out a sigh of content as a soothing warmness washed over him and his usually black field of vision glowed a plump red. Ahh, thought Seijuurou as Masaomi closed his own car window, this is nice; I think I'll just lie down like this until I get home.

\--

An end came to Seijuurou's reverie when the car stopped in front of his house with an abrupt jolt.

The younger Akashi groaned noisily as he was awakened from a nap he didn't even know he was taking. As he rubbed his eyes out of sleep, the first thing Seijuurou's irses came into contact with were his father's curious golden ones. At the unexpected eye contact, both men jumped back, and the younger dashed out of his father's car, not bothering to spare a glance at the elder as he quickly (but surely elegantly) hurried of to his room to begin the rest of his day. 

Seijuurou cursed himself: how could I fall asleep right next to my father, or all people? 

But Seijuurou doesn't have time to think of that as he flipped open his bright red planner to today's date. He went through the list of events for today: okay, the meeting with his father's business associates was done, so that's one thing off the list, but that had unfortunately went a bit over the expected time and he'll have to make that hour up somewhere else in his day. 

He frowned as he examined the rest of his schedule for today--he definitely can't cut loose on basketball planning, especially not when Rakuzan is having a practice match against Seirin (That coach of theirs was no easy competition, despite what her age and gender would suggest); he has an English Test the following Monday, and that's one of his less proficient subjects--no, he was brilliant in every subject and every subject was his best subject, it's just that English is a hellish language, that's all. Cutting down on biology and physics is a no-no; definitely no slacking in his violin practice as well; and he'll need the full hour on finishing his history essay.

(And don't even try to talk to him about cutting down on his "research" for the Kyoto Yaoi Con)

Hmm, perhaps he can cut himself a little slack on Modern Japanese? After all, it is one of his best subjects--no, all subjects were his best subjects--so it shouldn't take the whole 95 minutes, right? Seijuurou flipped open his bright red Japanese notebook, expecting to find everything familiar, but instead groaned at the sheer amount of Kanji he has to remember for next Wednesday's test.

Remind him why Japanese needs three writing systems for one spoken language again? And remind him why one of these writing systems is the hellish Chinese characters that have a bazillion pronunciations? Honestly, Seijuurou had no idea how Chinese people communicated with those chararcters alone as a language; the more Kanji he learned in school, the more his respect for Chinese people, or at least those who can write the language perfectly, went up.

Anyway, back to his present situation: it seems that he cannot take time out of any other part of his day, and the only time segment he can afford to curtail seems to be lunch with his father. Seijuurou sighed; his father will not be happy, but he shall understand--after all, he is a businessman and is well aware of the importance of careful planning and efficiency.

He beckoned over a maid and told her to inform everybody else that he will skip lunch, and that no one is to interrupt him. As the girl skittered out of his room, Seijuurou turned a couple of knobs on a bright red timer, and placed the device next to him as grabbed a bright red pencil out of his bright red pencilcase, opened up his bright red English folder, plugged in his bright red earbuds and began to study for his English exam. 

(Yes, he liked the color red, do you have a problem with that?)

Well, Seijuurou actually memorized the entire glossary of the textbook in the beginning of the school year, so all this is actually more of a review than actual studying. He began by copying down all the vocabulary and their definitions onto a sheet of white paper, English and Japanese clearly seperated into two columns. After he finished doing that, he folded the paper in half so that only one language is visible on each side, and used that as some sort of flashcard. For this test he'll have to memorize 80 words--remarkably less than the 100 he's used to from his father.

Honestly, that's not the hard part. The hard part is the grammar. Seijuurou actually reads over his textbooks before class, but English, or he supposed any language in general, isn't something in which you can just memorize something and be done with it. You actually need time to "master" it, which Seijuurou, as someone who doesn't really study until right before a test, despises. Which is why English is not exactly one of his favorite subjects.

But of course, he's still the top of his class in it.

Classic music, Beethoven to be exact, blasting through his headphones, Seijuurou copied English words and Japanese definitions with expert precision as he hummed along to the parts of the music he recognized. His eyes lit up as one part of the symphony sounded especially familiar. Oh, he played the violin part of this song for Teiko's talent show two years ago, Seijuurou reminisced, and of course he got first place for it. 

If you ask his honest opinion, he thinks that part was good enough to be a violin solo. Of course, Beethoven put it in there with a purpose--to support the main melody of the brasses and the piano--but it's just such a waste for it to lay hidden underneath so many distractions, albeit beautiful distractions when it shone so bright on its own.

But once again, some people are happy to be in the background even though they are very much talented. Tetsuya is one of those people, he mused as he mentally tapped along to the tune, Tetsuya's mind is strange--why is he willing to sacrifice himself so that he can support other people? Seijuurou certainly wouldn't have taken himself up on that offer--he would have turned to something else that he can shine in. But once again, Tetsuya always succeeded his expectations--because he never knew what to expect in the first place. Akashi Seijuurou couldn't understand how these people thought. 

He wasn't sure whether he wanted to or not.

\--

"Young Master, Lunch is ready."

Mildly displeased that somebody dared to disrupt him in the midst of his work, Seijuurou turned to shot the intruder a stare. "I believe I had sent someone to inform you and my father of my arrangement today, Furuba." he stated with a purposeful vestige of annoyance while his eyes gave the intruder, the unfortunate new butler, a glare so icy that he knew it could sent the man to his knees. It practically did, with the poor butler's knees shaking like mad and his eyes trying to look at any place but his master.

What? Servants need to learn to not interrupt their masters.

Seijuurou made a show of frowning and tapping his fingers impatiently as the new butler stumbled for a response. Glaring even more icily into the butler's eyes, he snapped his head downwards in an expression of barely contained fury and raised one eyebrow, as if subtly insulting the butler for his inability to respond. As the butler shook and shook, Seijuurou exagerratedly sighed, and elaborated on his previous question, with a sharp pointedness and forced patience: "I am not going to lunch today, Furuba, as I'm sure you heard from Saori; So please do tell me, sir, what is your business here?"

"U-u-u-uh..." The butler stuttered, and Seijuurou wanted to laugh, "M-m-masaomi-sama told me that he e-expected y-y-y-y-your presence at lunch."

"Tell him that I have something else planned." 

"M-m-masaomi-sama said..."

"Tell. Him. That. I. Have. Something. Else. Planned." The young master curtly ordered. With a swift motion, he turned back to his work, "Furuba, can you explain that properly or do you want me to go do your job instead?"

Ahh, the pleasure he felt as Furuba's face turned a sickly shade of white. Perhaps he ought to pity the servants a little bit, but not today. Furuba was a lot less fun to tease in comparison with the old butler, but Seijuurou supposes that approved of his father's decision to fire that old arse--it was kind of mentally scarring to see the man sport a hard-on for teenage guys--even though he now has to go a lot further than he usually liked to in order to faze Furuba. It adds more to the challenge, though, and Furuba being a rather good-looking young man helped too.

Anyway, Seijuurou raised another eyebrow as the previously shivering butler straightened his back. "Masaomi-sama had expected you to say that, S-seijuurou-sama, and he told me to tell you that 'nothing is more important than food' when you do so, young master." declared the young man, as if Masaomi's name is enough to make Seijuurou obey.

"Tell him that I have to study." Seijuurou replied. The butler, however continued to speak in the same declarative tone he used.

"Masaomi-sama had expected you to say that, S-seijuurou-sama, and he told me to tell you that 'you can't study when you're dead' when you do so, young master."

"Well I am not dead."

"Masaomi-sama had expected you to say that, Seijuurou-sama, and he told me to tell you that 'you will be without fuel' when you do so, young master."

"I'm sure that one day of fasting won't do me harm, Furuba. Plus, I will eat later."

"Masaomi-sama had expected you to say that, Seijuurou-sama, and he told me to tell you that 'you will continue to be short if you don't eat' when you do so, young master."

"I have to study now."

"Masaomi-sama had expected you to say that, Seijuurou-sama, and he told me to tell you that 'you can't study in hell' when you do so, young master."

"...Were those really my father's words, Furuba, or were those yours?"

"Masaomi-sama had expected you to say that, Seijuurou-sama, and he told me to tell you that 'Furuba can twist my words around as long as they convey my original message' when you do so, young master."

Furuba looked rather smug. Akashi Seijuurou doesn't like it when other people look smug in front of him. He will wipe that smug look off of Furuba's pretty little face.

The question lies in how he will do that. Slowly sitting up from his seat to go to the dining hall, Seijuurou was silently formulating his revenge when it came to him and he smirked. Oh, this is going to be good, Seijuurou chuckled.

"Furuba?" Seijuurou called with a suave tone. As the butler's expression immediately went from smug to a half quizzical fear, Seijuurou smirked and beckoned the servant over to his side with a curl of his index finger, repeating his name in an even more seductive tone. Flushed, the butler moved closer to his master, and when he became close enough Seijuurou suddenly pulled him down by his head and whipsered, extra breathily: "You have been taking good care of yourself?"

The butler clearly wanted to leave, his face blushing like made. Seijuurou's smirk grew even wider.

"You know, you really ought to have more vegetables--your face is rather pale." He ran a finger through Furuba's brown hair, "Perhaps you ought to have a tossed salad once in a while?"

"S-seijuurou-sama..."

"I'd gladly toss your salad for you, Furuba...oh, worry not, I consider myself to be a rather good cook. All you would need to do is open your mouth and enjoy the cucumber and banana while your mind is blown away by sheer plesure. You can even have a dash of cream if you so desire--"

"T-this isn't..."

"Spicy, savory, soft, gentle--however you want it."

"S-seijuurou-sama!" Furuba jumped back, "t-this is not appropriate!"

Seijuurou grinned, barely able to contain his laughter. "I was talking about food, Furuba. What were you thinking about?"

As Furuba slid himself away from the scene with a giant flush on his cheeks, Seijuurou got up with a sigh. What? Just because he promised his father that he won't sleep around anymore doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy making guys blush, ya know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter is a bit disappointing--the vast majority of the previous chapters have been given to developing Furihata's character, so I wanted to develop Akashi, especially his relationship with his dad a little bit.
> 
> Speaking of Akashi, my last fic "Confession" really seemed to have caused some uproar and criticisms...I was informed by several commenters on there that my portrayal of Akashi has been problematic in not only that work, but in all of my fics including this one. Many have demanded change in my writing, but I'm afraid that I don't exactly know WHAT to change since I don't exactly see what's wrong or abusive with Akashi here. 
> 
> If you are disturbed by Akashi here, please tell me how. I didn't grow up in the western world, so I might not easily notice the things that are problematic and triggering or abusive to you. One commentor mentioned that there are many who are disturbed by my work but are afraid to confront me about it. If this is you, please don't be for I am only a novice in the world of fanfic and would really appreciate any advice.
> 
> Thank you for reading my humble fanfic! Any comments, critiques, or suggestions are appreciated!


	10. The Life of Akashi Seijuurou, pts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry for not updating in so long! Thank you for all the support in the last chapter--I was really only trying to understand the fandom better but I guess thanks! :D Anyway here we have the couple...meet? I don't know, letters count?
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Tip, tap, tip, tap.

Leather shoes clanking against the ceramic tiles with each stride, Akashi Seijuurou groaned as his thoughts went to his father. "What does that man want? Doesn't he know how valuable his time is?" Seijuurou hissed to himself, "I can't believe I have to waste more time..."

He continued to mutter and sputter until he arrived at the dining room, by which time the elder Akashi had already been seated at the large, table-cloth covered table, a blushing Furuba by his side. Seeing that his son had came like he asked, Masaomi softly tapped his fork against the ceramic, a signal for the butler to bring up the food (and probably a chance for the poor guy to escape from the being that is Akashi Seijuurou). As the butler skittered away, the man turned to look at his son. 

He commented: "I am glad that you have arrived, Seijuurou. I know how busy your schedule is.".

Seijuurou pulled out a chair and slumped into it, not bothering to hide the annoyance that seeped through his eyes. He curtly responded tithout the slightest tint of pleasantry in his tone: "Is that so? I'm afraid I cannot say the same about my being here." As Masaomi raised a dispassionate eyebrow at his son's words, the younger Akashi looked dead into his father's eyes: "Let me ask, rudely and without witholdance, why do you desire my presence here? You know that I am a very busy man, do you?" he vehemently inquired. 

Masaomi looked straight into his son's eyes as well. "Of course, Seijuurou. It makes perfect sense to me that even though you are a 16-year-old high school student who doesn't hold a single stipend-paying job you cannot even make time for lunch." remarked the elder sarcastically, though his face betrayed none of the sarcasm in his voice, "Surely you have more things that require your presence than I, the current head of the Akashi family and the CEO of a large company, do."

Seijuurou shot his father a deadly glare that just about shot the passing-by Furuba dead as the intended recipient blankly glared back at him. The elder turned his head to glance briefly at the man to make sure that he's not in need of medical attention. 

"Father, I do hope that you understand if not for your delay in Tokyo I would have been able to finish everything without needing to skip lunch." The younger Akashi hissed, interrupting his father's observation. Masaomi furrowed his brows. 

"It was not a delay. The other side and I needed to throughly discuss our options before we make our final choce." he replied as Furuba, finally waking up from his terros, placed a couple bowls in front of the two, "How much time did you expect it to take?"

Seijuurou tsked, "Half an hour, 45 minutes at most, father. How long did it take you to inform the other party of the decisions we made beforehand? While I finished my meeting in the expected time, you took an extra hour which I had to make up in the rest of my schedule--may I inquire why?"

"That was your mistake, Seijuurou." Masaomi shook his head. "During business meetings, the partners are supposed to communicate with each other for a solution that would be beneficial to both, and that takes some time." he stated, "I do not simply inform my business associates of decisions I make beforehand--I have a conversation with them."

"I had a conversation with mine too, father."

"No you did not. You scared the poor man half to death."

"..Well, our exchange of information was rather efficient."

"Did you exchange information? Or did you order him to obey you?"

"We efficiently reached a decision that was beneficial for us, isn't that senough?"

Pulling what looked like a bowl of soup towards him, the elder Akashi sighed at his son's response. His eyes turned briefly towards the steaming liquid for a second before he lifted his head up again to respond to his son's words. "Seijuurou, while I do admire your efficiency and your dedication to meticulous planning, you ought to acknowledge the more spontaneous aspects of our existance." The man commented, "One expects efficiency when dealing with things, but with people you ought to expect effectiveness instead."

Seijuurou, too, pulled a bowl of soup to his side. He conceded: "I suppose I agree with your words here, father--but is effectiveness in dealing with things, or people for that matter, not based on efficiency? I'm not sure what the difference is between them."

"Efficiency is getting things done as quick as possible, and effectiveness is getting as much out of a things or a person as possible." Masaomi explained, "And the best way to get as much as you can out of a conversation is by talking with the other and bouncing your ideas back and forth."

"Isn't my thinking enough?"

"Despite what you may think, you are not perfect. There are things that even your mind can't think of, Seijuurou, and another can. Business isn't just about getting as much money as possible in your pocket, despite what soap operas and ill-thought of novels tend think--it is a process of communication with another party to reach the best results for both your and your partner without conflict."

"What if the other party's interests come into conflict with yours?"

"Then you deal with them accordingly." Seijuurou shivered at the thought of what he meant. The elder frowned confusedly, but continued, "But most time they aren't--of course, you would need to hold your ground, but your primary goal is to find the best solution for both parties, not only to get what you want. I personally don't think that being unnecessarily aggressive does well for you in business."

"Hmm, are you sure about that, father?" The boy asked, "That sounds a bit too...soft for an Akashi?"

Masaomi sighed and leaned into his chair with a dejected smile. "I'm not sure if I'm too soft or not actually--perhaps I ought to be more like you sometimes, Seijuurou." The elder admitted, "But in my dealings I never asked more than I needed and just tried to steer clear of trouble, and that seemed to serve me well. I don't know, though, whether this company will become better under your leadership or not."

Seijuurou laughed: "You sound quite timid, father."

Masaomi similarly laughed: "I suppose I am quite timid, now let us eat, shall we? Today's lunch is Tofu soup."

"Ah, my favorite."

"Is it? It was mine back when I was your age."

Seijuurou smiled. He brought a spoon up to his lips, about to take a drink from the soup when he did a spittake at the presence of something green inside. "Father, what is this?" The boy grumbled accusingly, lifting the incriminating piece of...sea vegetation with his spoon for his father to see. 

His father looked at his son confusedly as he chewed on his own piece of sea vegetation. "It's seaweed." He answered.

Seijuurou groaned in frustration--is his father truly clueless or just trying to tease him?--"Yes, I know that much, father. Why is it in my bowl?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Masaomi furrowed his eyebrows, "I noticed that you seem rather fatigued as of late, Seijuurou, and seaweed does wonders to restore one's energy due to its high Iron, Calcium, and Vitamin K content. It also helps to balance the acidic pH of the body."

Seijuurou argued:"I am not fatigued--" 

But his father was one step ahead of him and had no interest of listening to him. "You fell asleep in the car" He states, "and you have been getting black circles around your eyes."

"I have to study for a lot of tests next week, father..." Seijuurou sighed, and decided to look for some tofu beneath the thick layer of seaweed instead. Pushing away the seaweed to reveal a small chunk of tofu and some miso broth, the redhead groaned again as he scooped up the minute amount of treasure: "Jesus Christ, father, why is there so much seaweed in here?"

"Because it's good for you." His father answered with a tint of annoyance, "Have I not mentioned that? Also, it's my favourite food."

"Your favourite food?" The younger Akashi almost did another spittake, "What's even remotely delicious about these slimy strips of sea creature?"

His father repeated his son's actions on the other side of the table. "They are not sea creatures, Seijuurou." Masaomi furrowed his brows as he argued, "They are healthy pieces of crunchy, flavourful plants that comfort your taste buds as well as elevate the flavour of tofu. In all honesty, how did you enjoy Tofu soup all these years without seaweed?"

"How did you enjoy Tofu soup with seaweed?" 

Staring at the bed of seaweed, Seijuurou shook his head and reiterated: "I'm not eating this."

His father frowned, and his gold eyes glowed in mild reprimand: "Yes you are, Seijuurou. Don't be picky. It helps your fatigue--and don't tell me that you're not fatigued, because you are." 

"I told you I have a lot of tests next week, father."

His father sighed: "Studying for a couple of exams shouldn't be this exhausting, Seijuurou, even if those are Rakuzan exams."

"I have a lot." 

Scooping up another piece of seaweed, Masaomi frowned in consideration: "...What subjects do you have first?"

"English and Biology."

"Only study for these, then. The others can wait until the day before the test."

Seijuurou's eyes widened. "No I'm not going to do that, father." He hissed in disapproval, "Every student knows that cramming is not the way to study for a test."

"That's what the teachers say. This so called 'cramming' is just as viable an option of preparing for a test as studying a little bit everyday is."

"I can't believe my father is telling me that cramming is a viable way of studying."

Masaomi glared at his son: "That's because it is. Seijuurou. Studying right before a test helps you retain the information in your memory better. And after all, sharpening your knives right before a battle might not make them shiny, but it will make them fast."

"You have a way with words, father."

"It's an actual Chinese proverb."

"I'm leaving."

"Not before you finish the seaweed first, Seijuurou. And also, please go to bed earlier today, no later than 10:00."

\--

That night, Akashi Seijuurou ended up doing exactly what his father advised him to do. He only studied for English and Biology and promptly went to sleep at 10:00 , just to see how his father's advice works out. 

This must be a demonstration of how lazy habits pass down easier than hardworking ones, the redhead had thought as he fell to his slumber last night. But his father turned out to be correct--going to sleep at 10:00 and waking up at 6:00 felt remarkably nicer than going to sleep at 12:00 and waking up at 8:00, even though technically he had slept around the same amount. He shall do this more often.

It is, however, a change in his usual schedule. That, he's not sure he entirely welcomes.

"Argh, what am I supposed to do now?" Seijuurou murmured to no one in particular as he sat up--he had planned this day to start at 8:00, so now he had two random hours with which he doesn't know what to. He decided to pop off of his bed and change into something more presentable than pajamas--it's not like he's going to go back to sleep anytime soon. Bare feet against the red carpet, the redhead walked to his closest, slid the door open, and grabbed an outfit, not really caring which one it is--after all, he'll look decent in it. 

They're all purchased from high-class stores, and he looked gorgeous in everything anyway--he knew that much. 

After he changed into his outfit, Seijuurou stood there in the middle of his room, not knowing what to do. He always meticulously planned his day ahead of time and never did anything without a goal in mind, so this spontaneity is not really welcome. 

Maybe he'll move some of his later activities earlier so he can sleep earlier today, too. Seijuurou nodded, that sounds like a good idea. Grabbing a black pen, he flipped open his planner and drew a couple of arrows to signify his changes. Hmm, he should do some memorization for his tests, after all mornings are supposed to be the best time for memorization; he finished his basketball planning yesterday, and it would be nice to tell his teammates about them... Just as he dove head first into his planner, his phone rang.

The redhead quirked an eyebrow. Who would call him this early? Almost everyone who knew him apparently also knew that he rarely woke up earlier and that he was, apparently, a demon when he was awoken against his will (Apparently he had threatened to cut off Nijimura-sempai's penis and deep fry it when the senior called him at an ungodly hour in a fit of coffee-induced frenzy...he doesn't remember it) so this person was either a solicitor or just plain out stupid. 

Nevertheless, Seijuurou grabbed his cellphone. Expecting an unknown number, he quirked his other eyebrow at the caller ID. 

He slid the phone to call mode. "Hello Chihiro, this is Akashi." answerd the boy, "what business do you have with me at this hour?"

The first thing he heard was a crash accompanied by the actual Chihiro crying out hysterically on the other side. "No, Reo, what the fuck?!" Screamed the senior. The cellphone was most likely sthen wung around and fought for by the two males, judgine from the airy sounds and Chihiro's unintelligible yells. As Reo began to laugh his characteristic laugh, Akashi was barely withholding his chortle--he can just see Chihiro blushing and Reo batting his abnormally long eyelashes on the other side--but he just stayed silent and continued to aurally observe the couple on the other side.

"Ooh, so you have Sei-chan on your speed dial?" Reo fake pouted as another round of Chihiro's roars resounded, "So he's more important to you than I am?" 

Despite his seemingly jealous words, however, Reo hasn't stopped laughing since Seijuurou answered. "Fuck you, give me that phone!" Chihiro cried. The phone was swung around some more, and Seijuurou heard little intermittent calls of "Chi-chan" in the struggle, tone uplifted in a flirtacious manner. Tapping his fingered against his desk, Seijuurou waited until Reo finally returned the senior's cellphone to him and said senior managed to hiss an embarassed "I'm sorry about this Akashi" before his mouth was again occupied with hissing various threats to Reo, most of which involved confiscating his breakfast if he continued.

Breakfast, huh? He should go get some. "Oh you are no bother, Chihiro." Seijuurou smirked, calling the attention of both males to him, "In fact, I am rather curious as well--why do you have me on your speed dial, and why is Reo with you so early in the morning?"

"Well, uh...I'm just really bad with technology--to be honest I don't even know what speed dial even is so I probably added you accidentally."

"I see," Akashi nodded, even though they cannot see, "The other question?" 

"W-w-what other question?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Chihiro."

"U-u-uh..." The senior stuttered on the other side, and Reo, too, became uncharacteristically silent. After a few moments of the two most likely looking into each other's eyes and whispering for a good response, Chihiro groaned: "Ugh, don't play dumb with me, Akashi. You know perfectly well why Reo's here."

"I do not, Chihiro. You need to spell it out for me, sempai."

"Fuck you."

"How rude." Akashi nonchalantly replied. He transfered the phone from his hands to between his shoulders, allowing for further mobility in his hands. With those hands he put his planner, basketball notebook, a clipboard, and some pens inside a bag and decided that he'll change into something more suitable for sports. Might as well start with basketball practice today, for, after all, they're awake already, aren't they. Taking one last glance at the bag, he's made sure that he had everything he needed. "Since you guys are awake, how about we have practice in the morning?" He suggested, well, "suggested": "Meet in about 30 minutes at the basketball court near our school?"

"EHH?" Reo spoke to Akashi for the first time this morning, "b-but so early?"

"Are you guys not awake?" 

"W-well, but Chi-chan and I were planning to spend the entire day together...doing, you know..."

Akashi rolled his eyes and threatened: "Are you suggesting that you and your boyfriend's frolicking is more important than our victory against Seirin?" 

He then slid his thumb over his screen and shut off the conversation. These two would probably listen to him, or at least Reo would--he loves basketball too much. Chihiro has his own pride, but he can be surprisingly soft when it comes to pretty things or people important to him, both of which Reo is. The black-haired male would drag the senior to practice, and Hayama and Nebuya's no problem.

It's convenient that Chihiro chose to fall for Reo of all people at times, Akashi thought. Reo completely respects him and is willing to follow his every command and order while Chihiro had always been remarkably more difficult to control, what with his pride and his stubborn ego. However, the third year is currently under the wills and whims of the shooter, who definitely takes the dominant role in their relationship. Reo is utterly submissive to him, which, therefore, gives Akashi unprecedented, albeit indirect, control over the senior.

He doesn't understand how Chihiro can enter a relationship that would decrease his position, but it's not for him to judge as he benefits from it. Akashi slid over a couple more buttons to send Nebuya and Kotarou a text regarding their practice, and then put down his phone to get dressed.

\--

On his way towards practice, Akashi passed the Mailbox. 

The redhead paused for a second before he backtracked to where he had been a second ago. He stared at the mailbox.

Perhaps he'll check the mail on his own today for a change. Now that he thinks about it, it's strange that somebody should have to see letters addressed to you before you yourself do. Sliding a finger over a fingerprint recognization system by the side, the boy watched with mild amusedment as the heavy lid popped open and various white letters poured out of the metal box and onto the neatly trimmed grass. 

Akashi picked the letters up and began to examine them one by one. Most of these letters are addressed to Masaomi; the younger Akashi put those back into the mailbox, patting them free of dirt and stacking them up into a pile as he read the words on the envelopes. There were also a couple of advertisements, which he also put into into the neat pile--some of his servants mind find them useful. Standing there in his basketball shorts and a grey t-shirt, Akashi Seijuurou had went through nearly 80% of the large pile and deemed none of it worthy of his attention when his attention perked at the name on a particular letter.

He hummed as he closed the mailbox, mentally praising the Japanese post service for delivering Furiha-sensei's reply so quickly. It's been only a day since he saw Furiha-sensei write the reply, and it's already here--Akashi was rather pleased. After a brief contemplation, Akashi decided that he shall peruse the letter on his way there. Sneakers rubbing against the sidewalk in movement towards his destination, pale fingers effectively ripped the envelope into two and removed the letter. He discarded the wasted envelope at the nearest trashcan and began to read.

Actually, before he even read the contents, Akashi noted that the handwriting was surprisingly...not immature, but a lot less mature than he had expected. It wasn't messy, not at all, in fact the exact opposite: the characters were skinny, tiny little blocks that do not connect to each other in the characteristic way of an adult's handwriting. There were extravagant amount of spaces between each character and each other character as well as between the lines, as if the writer was afraid of interaction between his words. If he had to describe the handwriting, it would be...timid.

But once again, he shouldn't judge by a person's handwriting. Thinking this, Akashi began to peruse the letter, but stopped himself. Or maybe he should read the letter after practice, so he wouldn't get distracted. SIghing, Akashi put the letter into his backpack.

But he couldn't stop grinning on his way to practice in anticipation.

\--

"Stop grinning, it's creepy." A deadpan voice came out of nowhere as Akashi arrived, and if the younger male didn't knew who the man was he would have jumped in shock. On second thought, screw that, even though he knew who the person was he never got used to disappearing acts like this, whether it be Tetsuya in Teiko or Chihiro in Rakuzan.

Akashi promptly jumped back in shock and quickly tidied himself up to glare at the senior: "Well, nice to see you here. I assume the others are here as well?"

The silver haired man grunted something that resembled a yes and began to lazily saunter towards the court. Kotarou and Nebuya were already there, both seemingly sleepy and wanting to strangle the first person that comes their way. Akashi raised a brow.

"Hello." the redhead greeted, "seems like everyone is here..." he looked around, "except for one. Where is Reo?"

"Why, Sei-chan, I'm behind you!" Reo jumped out from behind. Akashi almost screamed: seiously, these two shall be the death of him. He begrundgingly mused how their going out really mingled their abilities--maybe he should go out with someone whose abilities he want to obtain... 

Hayama sleepily interrupted Akashi's musings: "Honestly, why do we have practice today..." the blond muttered under his breath.

"Blame Reo and Chihiro." Akashi answered as he--very slowly--removed the training plans and a clipboard from his backpack. At the captain's answer, Nebuya and Hayama sharply turned their heads to narrow their eyes at the blushing couple, resentment radiating off of their sleep deprived selves as both Reo and Chihiro, most likely, contemplated driving themselves into a corner. (Chihiro, however, was probably cursing his captain behind those blank eyes of his. )

Of course he didn't do anything about this situation, busy basking and enjoying himself in the couple's discomfort. 

What? You would have too, it was too funny.

After letting the negative attention directed at the couple carry on for a bit longer than Reo and Chihiro perhaps would have liked, Akashi finally clapped his hands once, signalling the beginning of practice. 

\--

"Alright, with this we should be good against Seirin." the captain muttered, talking to himself more than to anyone else. He clapped his hands twice, signaling the end of practice. 

With a confident stride of his long legs, a slight wind blew and caused the character blue and white jacket on his shoulders to flutter up and down, drawing any viewer's attention to his slim, but not weak body and his muscle studded forearms that clutched at his water bottle. As he gulped down the cool liquid, some clear droplets escaped from his soft, pink lips and ran ever-so-slowly down his long, pale neck while his adam's apple bobbed up and down. It's not only water's running down his body, though--the exercise had gotten his body quite flushed. Handsome, pale features had gotten gleamed with a light sheen of sweat, some of which are rolling down his entire body.

While Akashi Seijuurou is garnering the screaming adoration of girls and the silent admiration of the boys with his every movement, currently making the movement of elegantly running a white towel through his red hair, three taller males sat lifelessly on the basketball court in various unelegant positions, all drenched in sweat and too exhausted to give a crap about the expression on their faces.

"We're good again Seirin...?" Nebuya groaned, bracing his body with his large hands, "We better be...my legs are going to fall off..."

A single tear ran down Hayama's eye--or is that a tear? It's impossible to tell given how much he's sweating--and the boy mouthed something, but he was too tired to speak, and Nebuya don't really have the energy to decipher his soundless words. The conversation fell, and the two continued to stare into each other's eyes in silent complaint against the hell that they went through while Reo was doubled over in exhaustion. In all honesty, they didn't really know or get along with each other before Akashi, but now everyone on the team (aside from Akashi) had developed this odd sort of camaraderie that blossomed from their mutual misery of being subjects under the devil--I mean Akashi--someone who was not only younger than them but had beat the crap out of them in middle school.

If you're thinking that there's one person that's missing out on the misery, could you be talking about Mayuzumi Chihiro? Well, I'm afraid he's not taking part in this. You see, he had passed out. It's the curse of the shadow: utterly horrible endurance and stamina in exchange for a low sense of presence. It's a pretty horrible deal if you ask me.

The silver-haired boy is currently lying face down on the concrete. Nebuya groaned again; he would be the one to carry that dude again since Reo can't carry shit.

Of course nobody noticed those four with Akashi there. After all, Kuroko's not the only one that can do the Misdirection overflow in the Generation of Miracles--people tend not to notice their teammates when there's attractive people with strangely coloured hair near them. Akashi spared one look at his exhausted team and briefly contemplated calling his driver here to pick them up, but the redhead frowned in slight disappointment--today's training was only slightly harder than their usual.

He picked up his bag as started walking, leaving his teammates behind as punishment. 

Oh, he'll read the letter! Akashi quickly removed the letter from his bag and began to eagerly peruse it:

"Hello Red:

Well, thank you for liking my work! I welcome you to the mess that is my mind, haha! ﾟ･✿ヾ╲(｡ʘ‿ʘ｡)╱✿･ﾟ Please continue to support the humble me! Even though the outside world tend to think that Yaoi Fangirls are horrible and immature and all that, based on letters I have received in the past that is so not true and there is no shame in liking what you like. You will find lots of people here who are like you, no matter who you are--honestly, I even have a fan that's in his 40's! Not that I think you're in your forties! :D

About Basketball, was it really that obvious? ｜−ʘ\） I am really a big fan of basketball, but I'm not a member--I wish I was, but I unfortunately have no athletic talent whatsoever and there's no way the basketball team will ever let someone like me play a game..ahh, enough with that talk, but you can just think of me as a crazy fan who had an overactive imagination. I really try to give characters their own lives but seems like I fail at some times.

...Please don't tell anyone about this...(,ʘ_ʘ,)

Say, are you the same as I or are you a player? It's okay to tell me--I have no reason to tell, I'm just kinda curious, ya know? Haha I'm such a gossiper...you don't have to reply.

Thank you for liking my works and have a good day, miss-(´つヮʘ)―→or should I say sir? 

The one who is not fooled by bad writing,  
Furiha Kou"

...Well. Akashi blinked. This man is certainly not timid, though the handwriting had grown remarkably wilder by the end. Putting the letter into his backpack, Akashi smiled and rolled his eyes as he envisioned the brunette man trying to hold in his laughter as he sassed the recipient on the other side. He's not even angry--just in an odd stage of not knowing whether to laugh because the guy was, quite frankly, amusingly sassy or cry because his letter got insulted. "Reo, you fool." whispered the redhead under his breath as he thought back to the letter. Honestly, if he didn't interfere Akashi would have sent his original and made a good impression on Furiha-sensei instead of some--

Akashi stopped in his tracks for a brief moment and blinked again. Say, this guy is pretty smart. How did he know that Akashi was a guy trying to pose as an innocent fangirl through bad writing? Oh, I really like this guy, grinned Akashi, I'm going to have to think of an equally snappy reply to embarrass him. 

As he mentally constructed his snappy reply to Furiha-sensei, his phone rang. Akashi rolled his eyes--his phone is just ringing at strange times today. He looked at the caller ID, and picked it up: 

"Hello, Shintarou."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter you'll see Sei-chan's response! (HINT: it's nowhere near as horrible as the first letter) AkaFuri will predominantly talk to each other via letters in this fic, but they will meet face to face soon, just not as a couple. ^_^ If you have any constructive criticism, suggestions, and comments please don't be afraid to leave one!
> 
> Thank you for reading my humble fanfic!


	11. A Day in the Life of Furihata Kouki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a early happy valentine's day and a late happy lunar new year! It's been so long I guess most of you guys forgot about me, eh? ;-; I blame school-what was I thinking, taking Organic Chemistry, Anatomy, and Neuroscience all in one semester...
> 
> I had an exam that finished yesterday, and I kind of caught a cold so I'm sorry if this chapter isn't as polished as I'd like it too. Also, this chapter is HUGE. Like, it's 3x the length of my usual chapter.

It's 5:00 AM.

A cellphone that doubled as an alarm clock buzzed unmercifully next to its previously sleeping owner, and, barely managing to pull his fuzzy brunette head up enough from the desk he had fell asleep on, said owner managed to blink open a chocolate eye to sleepily glare at the disturbance. With a groan and a couple more rapid blinks of his eye, Kouki reached for his phone, took one look at the time, and pressed the "STOP" button before the dull pain of sleeping in an awkward position and the fatigue of pulling an almost all-nighter sent him crashing against the desk again.

Ugh, he's so not used to this.

A lot of things changed after father left for Kyoto. Kouki, for one, was bombarded with a lot more responsibility than he had been accustomed to handling: Father's not here anymore and mother is NOT getting out of bed anytime soon, which left Kouki to do the vast majority of the household chores, cook for everyone, pick up the medicine for mother, pay the electricity, water, and heating bills--which had been surprisingly expensive given how little they use, and attend a couple of Kokori and Megumi's parent-teacher conferences in their parent's place and...

And so many more.

Kouki grinded against uncharacteristically purred against his arms, rubbing his face against the softest things on the cold, hard desk as he cursed the awful mornings. Quietly muttering a soft "I don't wanna get up" to no one in particular, his entire body sobbed as he sat up, and he hissed at the pain on the lower half of his back. As to be expected, the second he straighted his back a wave of nausea swept over him due to his using energy that he, quite frankly, didn't have.

But he had to get ready for school, and, with a slight sigh, Kouki walked over to the kitchen.

He hummed as he walked past a window. Looking out from the glass barrier, Kouki smiled, and a sense of serenity washed over him as his eyes met the blue-grey sky as well as a slightly eerie-looking version of the familiar streets. Since the sun had not risen, the swarming crowd that's appear in a couple hours hadn't appeared just yet.

Kouki opened the window to breath in some fresh air and closed his eyes, letting some of the chilly molecules run past him and fill the room. It's kind of amazing, he thought, how much evenings resemble their mornings, whatnot with their not-blue skies and their not-entirely-visible suns.

Perhaps the day is actually split into two symmetrical pieces; just that humans, as a species, preferred to stay up later than to get up earlier. 

Why is that? 

Swinging open the refrigerator door, Kouki pouted ever-so-slightly at the emptiness of the chilled compartment. He'll have to go to the grocery store later, but he still needs to make something for today's breakfast (and lunch) for now. He could always make noodles again, but Kokori had complained about eating them for a week straight last time around--their parents love noodles and she doesn't--so perhaps he'll go with rice this time around.

But a family can't just feed themselves on rice. Furrowing his eyebrows, Kouki looked for something to make an actual dish with, eventually settling his eyes on a handful of spinach, half a head of cabbage, and half a carton of eggs. Hmm, perhaps he'll make some spinach soup and stir-fried cabbage to go along with the rice, as well as some egg-rolls for their lunches. 

"Sounds like a plan." Kouki said to himself.

First, he'll have to cook the rice.

Pulling up the sleeves of his uniform, Kouki scooped up some rice into a rice cooker bowl, added some water, and washed the rice particles by rubbing them against each other. With each movement of his hands, the previously transparent water splashed, danced, and turned a murkier white; the brunette boy almost sighed at the feeling of the little bumps against his palm. But it was brief and eventually, when the liquid turned into something the consistency of milk, Kouki dumped it into a bottle--he might need it later for plant-watering and pot-cleaning--and silently yawned as he did so, tears wetting his slightly droopy eyes.

Feeling his tiredness, Kouki stopped. He patted his face with cold hands and tried to wake himself up.

Ahh, he's really not good at all nighters--he feels awful during it, and feels even more awful after it--he should avoid pulling them from now on. Oh no, he's getting distracted. He can't have that.

After he finished preparing the rice for cooking, he added some clean water--about the same as the rice in volume--into the bowl, plopped the whole thing into the rice cooker, and pressed the "cooking" button. As a previously dark light turned bright orange, Kouki let out a breath in satisfaction.

Rice, done. Moving on to the next step then: The spinach soup.

He heated up some water in a pot. While he waited for it to boil, Kouki took the spinach, rinsed them with some water, dumped them into the water with a dash of salt and pepper for flavour, and threw the lid on. He briefly considered adding some egg drops to the mix, but he was cooking egg rolls so...meh.

Spinach soup, done. All he has to do is wait for it to boil. He can make the while he cooked the stir-fry cabbage.

Kouki tried to dice the cabbage and look at the soup at the same time, which he...did accomplish, though with a bit of difficulty. (hint: it involved him almost dicing his fingers off) He took a skillet, dumped about a tablespoon of oil in it, and thew the cabbage dices in. He sprinkled some salt, pepper, and a dash of soy sauce and sesame oil into the pan and, gently, stirred the mixture around the iron.

His stomach growled ungracefully as the aroma floated into the air and subsequently into his nostrils. Ahh, he'll have to do something about the smell on his uniform later...

As the cabbage lost most of its water and began to brown, Kouki dumped the contents into a dish and voila, stir-fried cabbage! He took a pair of chopsticks and tasted a bit of his cooking and, not to brag, but the taste literally sent him to heaven. The only thing that would elevate the taste would be...Kouki closed his eyes to analyze the taste on his tongue..something a bit more dimensional and--

Well, now's not the time to think about that. Anything that's edible should do right now, and he's a bit too out of it right now to think. Sighing, he snuck another taste of the dish he just made.

He learned how to make this dish from an anime series (he shall not mention the name, nor the genre), even though the person failed to make it every time--honestly, how did be manage to do that? It's just, literally, throwing cabbage into a pan. Anyone should be able to make it--its easy enough, isn't it?

But, well, coach's cooking is a thing.

Shaking his head free of traumatizing memories, Kouki moved to complete the final part of his cooking: Egg rolls.

There were still some oil remained on the skillet, and Kouki figured that that was enough so make the egg roll. He cracked open a few eggs, beat them until the yolk dyed the previously separate and transparent white with its bright yellow, and added soy sauce, sugar, garlic, and salt to the mixture. 

He poured one half of the egg mixture into the skillet. As the liquid solidified upon the head, Kouki twirled what remained in his bowl and started to build the current pancake-like egg into a tube. Rolling up one edge of the pancake, he pushed the resulting structure to the side upon the round part was completely exposed, and added more of the egg mixture. As that solidified, Kouki rolled the entire thing into a giant tube.

Repeating the process, Kouki, bit and bit, built the large pancake into a tube. When he used up all of the mixture, he lift the spatula, removed the tube from the skillet, placed it onto a kitchen board and cut into several pieces, which he then neatly placed in three lunch boxes. 

The rice cooker binged, signaling that the rice had finished cooking. Kouki took one last look at the spinach soup and decided that it's done and servable. "Alright" Kouki beamed with a little dance.

He's doing good at this parent thing! Turning to clean the mess he made, Kouki saw that the clock read 5:50. "Time to bring mother her food; I'll need to wake Kokori and Megumi up as well. " He whispered, smiling at nothing in particular.

\--

After they finished breakfast, Kouki, all ready in his (slightly crumpled) uniform, waved to his sisters from the other side of the street. "I'm off to school!" he called from the other side of a busy road, "Did you bring your bento boxes?"

"Yep, Kou-chan!" "Of course we did!" Megumi and Kokori answered, voice ringing across a sea of cars and exhaust. The elder tightly held the younger girl's hand in her own to prevent her from getting lost in the crowd, and, having made sure that they're good to go, Kouki gave both of them a final wave before they disappeared from his sight. After looking around the house once more and saying goodbye to his mother, the boy threw on his backpack and began moving in the direction of his own school.

As nice as Seirin was, being the best high school near his house and whatnot, it was bloody annoyingly in some 4 or 5 miles from his sisters' schools. He just can't help but worry sometimes since it's really inconvenient for him to get there in case something were to happen to them but, as his mother often said, Furihata Kouki tends to worry a bit and he can only pray for the best.

Furihata slowly skittered towards his destination, having to stop and make way for other fishies in the lively river. Shopkeepers stood in front of their homey shops, proudly declaring that they're open for the day with a flip of a slightly worn cardboard sigh while various schoolchildren passed by them boisterously and laughed with their friends. A couple of elderly ladies were on their morning trip to the super market, and several of them turned looked at Kouki pitifully--it seems like everyone in the neighborhood knew about the Furihatas and how their eldest son, a child himself, now has to take up the roles of both parents on his shoulders while keeping up his studies in school...

Dang, he sounds utterly pitiful.

At some point in this ordeal, Furihata considered asking one of the old ladies to buy his groceries and pay her back later, but quickly denied the idea. The groceries can get really heavy and, after all, he's not going to trouble the elderly to avoid what should be his job. He can't paint himself as a paragon of the pitiful, helpless boy that everybody thinks he is.

Politely waving back to the old ladies, Furihata continued to make his way toward school, a lone figure blended into the crowd of lively cacophony. Where's Kawahara and Fukuda, you ask? Well, he walked to school alone everyday. It's not as if he wasn't close with Kawahara and Fukuda--oh god no--it's just that their houses were really far from his and it would really inconvenience them to have to come over to Furihata's house before going to school.

(Fukuda and Kawahara, however, do live close to each other--No, Furihata Kouki, don't think about how convenient it would be for Fukuda to walk Kawahara home or for them to meet up for dates. They're your two best friends, for god's sake!)

He didn't mind, really--if he were to walk with someone to school he wouldn't have the chance to behold the beautifully lively world that lays before him. The streets were brighter and remarkably more populated in comparison to what he had seen from his window a couple minutes ago, and the Oriental green-grey gradient had faded into a more French impressionistic blue, a glaringly white sun hanging by the floating clouds. Ahh, the germanium--

"Hey Furi!"

A voice behind him interrupted his musings and Furihata furrowed his eyebrows--that voice sounded familiar. Who is it?

Chocolate eyes widened in realization after a few moments of ponderance.

Sputtering as he turned his head, Furihata beheld a tall redhead already cheerfully running to his side from the block ahead of him by the time of his apparently belated "Kagami? What are you doing here?". Then, in a surprisingly short time, Kagami Taiga was by his side and grinning that soul-crushingly bright grin of his. "I was just on my way to school." The redhead, without so much as a pant, answered, "What are you doing here, Furi?"

The brunette found himself grinning a little bit too--Kagami's smile is contagious, damn it--as he tilted his head upward to properly talk to the other, "I was just on my way to school, too. You live around here?"

"Yeah, a couple blocks down that-a-way." Kagami pointed in the direction of Furihata's house and Furihata blinked: Why didn't he notice this when the team was on their way to the his apartment? He surely would know his house from anywhere, even if others wouldn't. Seeing his companion's confusion, the redhead wanted to add something, but skittered and hesitated before he opened his mouth added, hesitantly:

"The time we went to my apartment, I actually went a different route since...uh..."

"This isn't the best area?" Furihata finished the sentence.

As Kagami nodded guiltily, the brunette laughed: "Don't worry, I won't get offended--the truth is the truth, no?''

"I-i-it's not that the people are bad, it's just that, uh..."

"Don't worry, I'm well aware that this isn't a particularly wealthy area. My family's not particularly wealthy, either."

Kagami still looked guilty in spite of that last sentence, and Furihata decided that he needed to change the conversation to something else, but paused for a second--what should he ask about? He doesn't know a whole a lot about Kagami besides basketball, and everyone knew that (even those who weren't in the basketball club--for 2 months he was just called the "basketball guy" because he can't stop talking about how awesome American basketball was) so he probably was a little sick of it. Of course, only he knew that Kagami cared about Kuroko more than he cared for basketball...

Hey, nice.

Furihata exaggeratedly looked around them, performing the action more for comic effect than for anything practical, and asked: "Where's Kuroko? He's not going to pop out of nowhere, is he?".

Kagami laughed, seemingly glad that he didn't hurt Furihata's feelings before his laughter faded into an awkward smile. "Ahh, well, Kuroko actually lives on the other side of town..." He explained, "We're pretty close in school but, ya know, it's kind of a lot of walking for him and you know his stamina..."

Don't think for a second that there wasn't sadness in his voice.

Furihata tried to hold his squeal in as a look of unmistakable dejection flew across Kagami Taiga's red eyes. Walking by the poor tiger's side, he internally sobbed for the uke's misery as his heart ached for him. How could anyone, let alone a large, hormonal, emotionally tender teenage boy bear the pain of only seeing his love for 8 hours a day and having to spend the vast majority of that time sitting in a classroom? Such is the pain of young love, he supposed, and Furihata reckoned that Kagami's situation was the high school equivalent to a long-distance relationship--I mean, what if Kuroko cheats on him with a cute guy in his neighborhood? Kagami won't know, and even if he did he can't blame the blue haired boy, and...Oh my god, the heartache that could before the love life of this angel!

Furihata internally dawwed as the tiger blinked at him. Please let me wrap him in a blanket and feed him cookies and milk for the rest of his life, his protective side cried. Nodding in commiseration and successfully resisting his urge to wrap himself around the pouting tiger, Furihata managed to reply: "Yeah, the same with Kawahara and Fukuda."

Kagami blinked at Furihata's strange behavior for a second, and then there's that soul-crushing grin again. "So I guess it's good, then," He chuckled, "that we found each other, so to speak?"

"Yep." Furihata laughed awkwardly.

Then his phone just had to buzz with a text message and put him in the dilemma of listening to Kagami or checking his text message. The brunette boy opted for both as He tried his hardest to pay attention to Kagami's next words as he drew his thumb over a cracked screen to unlock it.

The unlocked screen revealed a message from Koneko. The title read "GUESS WHAT???" and Furihata ungracefully raised his eyebrows as he continued on to read the body of the message:

"Hey guess who I'm sitting next to on the bus??"

Quickly typing a "Who, what?" And sending the message to Koneko, the brunette boy turned his head to give more attention to the tall male beside him who is still going on and on without noticing his companions new found interest in his phone.

"Say, about that part-time job of yours."

Oh no.

"I have been wanting to ask for a while, but..." Kagami blushed, but nevertheless looked straight into Furi's eyes, the pureness in his eyes almost threatening to soak Furihata's remarkably filthier ones away. "Is uh, you know....drawing these things that part-time job you tell us about?" 

The brunette coughed and simply nodded , not sure he's capable of speaking.

"I see..." Kagami nodded with him, still blushing "so, uh...are you into guys?"

"No!"

The response was immediate. After he replied, though, Furihata quickly realized that this response might make Kagami feel guilty for liking his works and loving Kuroko. Mumbling, he quickly added a: "I'm..I'm not sure..." and hoped that this would encourage Kagami to pursue Kuroko without giving himself away.

Well, it worked. Kagami blushed and muttered as he turned his head sideways, "Y-yeah, same thing here. I-I-I mean I never knew two guys could do it like that until I saw a girl in my class reading...you know, bu-but now that I know two guys can do that I just..."

Furihata's phone buzzed, and, feeling a bit irritated at Koneko's inappropriate interruption, he unlocked it to reveal another message: "I'm sitting next to Izuki Shun ;-D and he's texting someone~"

Wait what.

...OH. MY. GOD.

He sent a quick "Who is he texting?" and immediately turned his head up, trying his hardest to not look too excited at the message he's received. Koneko can really be a bloody tease at times, but since she's texting him about Izuki Shun texting someone, that could only mean one thing, and oh god oh god oh good please let one of his ships come true.

He's been shipping Izuki-sempai and Moriyama Yoshitaka from Kaijou since... Forever! Honestly, a blind person can feel the bedroom eyes Moriyama's giving across the court (well, that blind person would have to be a Yaoi fan like him but that's beside the point) and of course that little interaction after the Kaijou was Moriyama getting Izuki's phone number! Ahh! But Izuki-sempai was so annoyingly clueless this whole time! How dare he go on and on about not having a girlfriend when he's got Moriyama around his finger! And even though neither of them have flashy, rainbow coloured hair they look so good together!

"So...uh...Do you have someone that you...uh...kind of like?" Kagami unknowingly interrupted Furihata's fanboying, face flushing, "because I kind of do and, uh, I'm kinda nervous about it."

Wait, is he getting potential canon material for two of his ships today?!

"Uh...sure."

"C-can you tell me about him?"

"No! Not unless you tell me yours!"

"Eh?" Kagami jumped back in shock, but soon settled into his closet of contemplation, seemingly weighing his options as he grew silent. Furihata could only stare nervously. God, he wanted to get some information out of Kagami, but... He doesn't want to give out any information of his own.

Or be could just be a jerk and not fulfill his side of the bargain, but that's just wrong.

The two boys just walked for a while, side by side, before the Tiger finally came out of the closet and settled for a pout, clearly reluctant to talk about his crush. "Why not?" He whined.

Furihata rolled his eyes. Such a bakagami. Even elementary students won't just tell someone about their crush--that's the whole point of a crush: to keep your admiration to yourself, to write endless poems and draw countless pictures for them, to secretly find everything about this other person so endearing and perfect only to realize, a couple years down the road, that it was so pointless.

Plus, Akashi is the type to know what he wants and Furihata's most definitely not what he would want.

"Gah!" He screamed as he looked up to find Kagami raising an eyebrow at something, apparently, on his face. He jumped back and his phone, thankfully, buzzed, and he opened it to see that Koneko's reply came back:

"Your Izuki-sempai was texting some dude named Moriyama--I don't know him, but you probably do--and he was blushing like the guy had just sent him porn; actually that wasn't far off from the truth;-). Based on their text conversations with each other these two have been exchanging god-awful puns with each other for some time, and today this Moriyama guy decided to confess to Izuki with this god-awful poem that consisted entirely of puns."

Furihata jumped in joy and audibly squealed as his foot hopped around in circles, his exchange with the person beside him already forgotten. Sending Koneko a quick: "you better not lie to me", the brunette curled both of his hands into fists, and his entire body flushed and shook in excitement as his soul cried: "Yes!"

The expected reply came from Koneko 2 seconds later:

"Who else would confess with "I want to toss your salad, because I olive you berry much?""

Oh. My. God. Oh. My. God. They're so cute together! His eye has proved correct! He KNEW that those loving glances Moriyama shot at their elder point guard weren't just admiration; that he didn't ask for his phone number just to be friends; that...oh my god, how could nobody else have noticed the way that Moriyama glared at every girl who dared to move Izuki's way at the games?

Furihata squealed again, bumping into someone. Not even bothering to mumble a quiet sorry, Furihata skin around on his heels and flapped like a T-rex trying to clap.

Kagami looked a tad disturbed.

"Uhh... Furi, you okay?"

 

\--

After the bell for first period rung Furihata, against his better judgement, began to nod off in class. It didn't help that the class--History-- wasn't one of his favorite subjects. Honestly, who cares about what people did a hundred years ago? Why would anyone need to know the year in which some random American boy got killed in Boston besides to impress some teacher?

But one shall not grumble about his work. Furihata, silently cursing whoever made world history part of the Japanese curriculum, picked up his backpack, found the paper he had written about the American revolution, and put the sparkling, smooth piece of paper on his desk to be collected by the teacher while his mind began to plan the story he's going to write after learning the bit of new information from Koneko.

Hmm... what should the theme of the story be? Actually, a better question would be why and how Moriyama fell in love with Izuki-sempai. What is lovable about Izuki-sempai?

Well he has the eagle eye; he is an utterly abominable pun artist; he's very good-looking--(by the way, is Furihata the only one here who's both a little uncomfortable and a little elated at the fact that Mr. Aida called Izuki-sempai "cutie-kun"?! Like hello? That something you just say to some random member of your daughter's basketball team? To be honest, Furihata's not sure if he likes the ship or not: a little bit of age difference is delicious, but somebody your father's age? But, well, like many couples they could work well together if they knew each other's boundaries.) ; and he has extreme determination and perseverance when it comes to his goals.

Hmm... perhaps Moriyama fell in love with Izuki-sempai when they played against each other? Perhaps that determination, that perseverance, that devotion to something important to him made Moriyama, who had spent his whole high school career chasing after girls and seeking short-term satisfaction, realize his failure? Could it be that Moriyama initially only admired Izuki, but later realized, through their pun exchanges, that the boy had a light and awkward side to him as well. He then just wanted to spoil the cute boy a little bit, feeling pity because no one on the team seemed to appreciate Izuki's puns (because they were horrible), but soon became possessive since he was the only one who saw his cute Izuki like this.

Furihata's stomach curled a little at how Izuki's treated in the team--he, of course, is greatly respected and valued as the vice captain, but whenever he wanted to join the conversation or cheer someone up with a horrible pun he would be immediately shut down by Hyuuga...Apparently, according to Riko-sempai, Izuki's actually kind of shy around people he's not familiar with. Imagine him, feeling slightly alone, finding someone that loves him AND his horrible puns?

The boy did a little seat dance in excitement, earning him a glare from his deskmate.

Say, if these never met in basketball, how would they have gotten together and how would this lovely relationship dynamic have played out?

Furihata tapped his pencil against his lip. Hmm, isn't Izuki-sempai actually younger than Moriyama? So won't Izuki-sempai actually be...Izuki-kouhai to Moriyama, if they went to the same school? Izuki-sempai would be, like, the cute kouhai that wants his sempai's approval and Moriyama would be the careless sempai that just so happened to have a soft spot for one cute Kouhai? They could both be part of a club--preferably something nerdier than basketball--that Moriyama initially felt indifferent about until Izuki showed up and was so determined and then...

Or he could make take a more mystical approach. After all, "eagle eye" sounds like something that came straight out of a fantasy novel--it would kind of be a pity to not use it. Izuki-sempai could be some magical creature, and Moriyama only admired Izuki from afar at first, thinking of him as something of a miracle, but after a fateful meeting they become best friends and Moriyama realizes that Izuki was childish, determined, and beautiful? Moriyama's name also has the Kanji for forest, doesn't it?

Mindlessly jotting down notes about the founding fathers' vision for America (Jesus christ, why do they have to do this in Japan again?), Furihata Kouki only half-listened to the lecture as his mind tried to decide between the cute school rom-com and the grand, naturalistic myth (that'll probably have a remarkably sad ending). Of course, he leaned toward the rom-com since it's what he's good at drawing and have drawn a lot of, but he also felt like he wanted to try drawing something that he doesn't draw often. He could draw some seriously beautiful things with this idea, but should he risk it?

After all, he doesn't want another "Lone Emperor" to happen.

Actually, that probably won't happen. The reason why so many people hated the "Lone Emperor" was because 1. Kouhata fell for Seishi at first sight without much introduction and 2. Kouhata was plain and useless and Furihata has to admit that if Kouhata wasn't based off of him he would hate his guts too. If he makes both Izuki and Moriyama utterly beautiful with lots of plot development, it probably won't happen again.

But the sempai and Kouhai though...Furihata mentally sobbed as he had to choose one of the two ideas--or does he? He could always make two series.

Nah, don't plan too much before you actually draw. Furihata sighed as the teacher began to talk about Japan's position during America's initial stages, and began to sketch a picture of an eagle-winged Izuki with a curious, wide-eyed Moriyama. He'll think about it later.

\--

The bell for the end of 4th period rung, signaling the beginning of lunch. All the students, who had looked blank and bored in lecture a couple minutes ago, suddenly bloomed and popped off their seats, chatting to this or talking to that. Furihata, however, was too lazy to stop his previous doodling as the orange-coloured sunlight covered him in a blanket of warmth. He yawned and took out his egg rolls.

"Hey Furi, whatcha doing?" A familiar voice called from his side.

Furihata jumped, turning his head to find Fukuda standing by him. Feeling a bit foreign to the other boy's existence (That reminds him...it's been forever since they talked to each other...)but slightly relieved, the boy smiled. "Hi!" He greeted, chocolate eyes staring into the Fukuda's black ones.

But the other's black eyes are already not on him, instead ogling the intense, messy picture he has created. Much to Furi's horror, the taller male began to grin as reached for the paper. "Ooh, what is this, Furi?" He chuckled.

With his faster reflexes, Furihata snatched the paper before Fukuda touched it. "Don't touch" he hissed as he stuffed the incriminating object into his backpack, "Mine"

Fukuda smirked, slinging his leg over Furihata's desk and occupying half of Furihata's desk space as he jumped onto the wooden surface, pushing the egg rolls to the side. "C'mon, what is it?" the boy pleaded, "Looked real interesting too with those doodles and hearts--" But he paused, before admitting: "one hell of a doodle, though--you an artist or something?"

"Of course he's an artist, Fukuda." Another familiar voice--Kawahara--popped out from nowhere, making Furihata nearly jump out of his skin, "Remember middle school?"

"Oh yeah, for that art project--"

Hands slammed against the desk, "WHERE THE HELL DID YOU COME FROM?" Furihata interrupted, frantically, as his body popped up in irritation and his eyes widened at his two best friends, "Are you two trying to give me a heart attack?"

...

Fukuda and Kawahara just looked at him blankly. They blinked, turned to look into each others' eyes for a while, and rotated back into their original positions to stare at Furihata with the rest of the class as the boy just stood there awkwardly with his balled-up hands. 

"Furi." Fukuda and Kawahara commanded simultaneously, "Sit down."

Furihata obeyed, and little by the little the rest of the class turned back as well as the boy buried his head into his arms. Fukuda sighed.

"We have been here for a while, Furi, you just didn't notice us." he commented. Kawahara nodded, and Fukuda, seeing the other's agreement, continued: "And we're nothing like Kuroko, Furi. We were perfectly noticeable, you just seemed to be a little out of it."

Furihata laughed a little. "Haha, well I didn't get much sleep yesterday," he admitted with a defeated grin, closing his eyes a little as he shook his head in mild self-deprecation

He was surprised when he opened them again to see a no-longer-grinning Fukuda and a very concerned-looking Kawahara.

"Furi, what's wrong?" Kawahara asked in a serious tone.

"H-huh?"

"You didn't respond to any of my texts." the bald boy (Seriously, why was Kawahara bald at his age?) stated, "And you didn't return the manga you promised you would return to Fukuda."

"O-oh." Furihata looked at Fukuda guiltily, "I-I-I'm sorry, I will return your manga soon--I just forgot about it, and also about Kawahara's texts too--I was just busy."

Neither of their expressions changed. "That's what I figured." Fukuda said severely, "But you usually don't keep yourself THAT busy, Furi. You only do that when you feel like you need to, for one reason or another. What is it?"

"F-Fukuda, you're--"  
.   
"You're doodling to keep yourself awake, not jumping at the lunchtime bell, not noticing us--hell, you didn't talk to us for the whole weekend? I've seen you at horrible times, but nothing like this."

"W-what."

"Something happened in the past week." The tall boy declared firmly as he locked his gaze onto Furi's, "And you're not telling us about it."

"I...I'm fine." Damn, why did Furihata stutter? "I was just busy, that's all."

"Are you sure you don't want to talk to us about it?" Kawahara gently asked, "If your workplace is, like Fukuda's thinking, working you too hard then we'll help you get money without the..."

Furihata shook his head. "I'm fine, really."

Both boys sighed, and Fukuda ran a large hand through Furihata's brunette hair, making the boy pout( for some reason, every friend he had insisted on rubbing his head whenever possible because "it's cathartic", even male ones like Fukuda). "I know I must sound like your mother by now, but are you really alright?" He asked one last time.

"Yeah."

"...Fine then." his two friends relented, "But we're going to hang out with you after school today, alright? Because we haven't talked to you all weekend?"

Furihata's eyes brightened.

"Sure!" He answered, but the chipperness in his voice disappeared as soon as he thought about his duties at home--he has to go shopping, probably should go pick up his letters are the post office while he's in the area, as well as drop off some of his works... 

The smile on his face slowly faded away, replaced into a sad, puppy-like frown, complete with droopy eyebrows. "Uh..." He quietly muttered, semi-hoping that they won't hear him. 

Unfortunately, they did. His two friends immediately stopped their chatter to look at a him, Kawahara blinking confusedly while Fukuda curled an eyebrow. "Is there a problem?" he asked, in what Furihata knew was the gentlest tone he could manage when he was angry about something, and Furihata suddenly felt guilty--he hadn't talked to these two since the new turn of events in his family, and he dared to call himself one of their best friends. He forced a smile onto his face and decided that he'll do it after their hangout "Oh nothing." he replied.

"Don't 'oh nothing' me, Furi." Fukuda exasperated, "you have something to say, say it."

Furihata shrunk back at the tone of evident annoyance in Fukuda's voice. "Uh...I just...I just wanted to say that...that..." 

He sputtered, body tremebling in confusion and guilt. How is he supposed to tell them that he can't make it today? God, he had never been good at rejecting people.

"Furi." Fukuda's growling now, "Say something, will ya?"

"that...that...that"

Seeing Furihata's obvious discomfort, Kawahara sighed and slapped Fukuda up on the head. "Look at you, you're making Furi uncomfortable." He chastised, shooting a glare at the taller boy, "Can't you see that he is frightened?" . As Fukuda winced from the pain, Kawahara smiled and turned to a slightly nervous Furihata. "I'm sorry that Fukuda's being like this. We genuinely wanted to catch up with you, so if you have something to do we can push it off to later?" 

"O-oh". Furihata laughed, "It's just that I remembered that I have some groceries to do so I might not be able to go with you guys...."

"Oh." Fukuda responded, eyebrows arching up, "That's it?"

Furihata nodded fervently. Fukuda sighed.

"Well we can help you with the groceries, can't we?" He turned to Kawahara, "We'll help Furi with his groceries and then go straight home while he takes the bus."

"Sounds like a plan!"

Fukuda smiled, and then directed his attention to the egg rolls. "Say, are those egg rolls homemade?" 

"Uh-huh" Furihata nodded as he stuffed one of them into his mouth, "Made them myself"

"Dang."

Both boys said.  
\--

Soon, it's the end of school, and the bell signaling the end of school--well, it's not really a bell, it's just a scratchy recording of the heavy "ding-ding-ding-dong" from some actual bell played in every speaker of the room--reverberated throughout the building that is Seirin high.

"Hey, Furi! You ready?" An excited Fukuda beamed in front of him, sticking his head comfortably close to the engrossed teen but nevertheless effectively knocked him out of his engrossment. Noticing his lack of response, Furihata smiled.

"Yeah, let's go!" He replied cheerily, stuffing his textbooks into his backpack before swinging the heavy appendage across his shoulders. Fukuda grinned in reply, and both boys turned their heads to Kawahara, who already had everything ready to go and is currently standing by them both.

Both boys stared at the third with open-mouthed admiration, making the bald boy sigh in exasperation. Shaking his bald head in exaggerated disappointment, Kawahara commented: "You two need to speed things up a bit with your cleaning up." Marching remarkably quickly towards the door, he waved his hand cursively at his two friends.

"Hurry up and let's get going! " he called as one foot already stepped outside of the door.

Fukuda and Furihata looked at each other for a second and, messily "hurrying up", Fukuda quickly ran up to the boy with Furihata followed close behind, the pouch containing his lunchbox swinging haphazardly against his leg.

"Wait for me!" He called as he tried to catch up to them.

Kawahara briefly paused his steps to wait for Furihata, but Fukuda, after finally catching up to his friend, had other ideas. Without slowing down his steps, the black-haired center swung an arm over Kawahara's neck, forcing the small forward to either move his legs or fall flat on his face. The boy, with a slightly apologetic look, chose the former as he ran on ahead with Fukuda, who turned back to smirk at the slightly frazzled Furihata.

"Catch us!" he taunted breathily as he and Kawahara began running.

Furihata's eyes narrowed.

Oh, you're on.

The three boys laughed as one foot swung in front of the other, the rubber soles of their footsteps probably annoying everybody else in the school, but none of them cared as the afternoon light shone unabashedly through the open windows, without the slightest bit of obstruction, and splattered on their fleeting, teenage bodies.

Their school uniforms were soon soaked in sweat and, for Furihata at least, became even more wrinkled than it had already been. He'll have to iron this after he gets back, but, for some reason, Furihata Kouki decided that now is not the time to worry about it, not while he's busy getting reacquainted with the friends he hadn't been talking to since forever, no, not while he's busy acting like the idiotic teenager that he is--that everyone in this building is--he'll save his mature side for his family, his manager, and his fans; for now, he'll just goof off a little.

Just a little.

It's just like his mother says: make the best decision you can right now and worry later.

\--

In front of him, their chase had long fallen from simple catching-up to just blindly running and trying to touch each other, throwing whatever pun they can in their way. Soon, Kawahara gave up, stumbling, falling, and finally settling for redfaced panting as Fukuda and Furihata both stopped by his side, red-faced and panting as well. Furihata, breathless himself, teased: "You...huff...really need to..huff..catch up on your practice, Ka-wa."

To further emphasize his point, the brunette straightened up his body and crossed his arms as the other two glared at him, the one being addressed especially narrowing his eyes indignantly.

"Oh--huff--sure." He rolled his eyes sarcastically, "S-says the guy who looks like he might--huff--pass out any minute."

"Hey!" Furihata puffed his cheeks, "I-I don't, huff, look like...like I'm about to pass out!"

"You--huff--can't see yourself--huff--so you can't say that!"

"You both are pathetic." Fukuda interjected, sweat visibly threatening to drop into his eyes but still smiling as if nothing had happened, "You two were s-o slow!"

"You're just fast because you're tall!" Kawahara hissed, his head popping up in frustration while Furihata nodded in approval of his actions. Seeing his friends' reactions, Fukuda pffted but didn't say anything more as he turned his head to actually walk out the door this time, the speed of his legs threatening to declare another competition but one glare from Kawahara solved that.

It was Furihata's turn to "pfft" as Fukuda, albeit unwillingly, slowed down his footsteps for everybody else to catch up. Short legs (he was the shortest in their group, okay?) kicked off of the ground with a swish of his school uniform, and Furihata rushed to wrap a sweaty arm about Fukuda's similarly sweaty body, both grinning as they pulled each other close while Kawahara rubbed his hand through Furihata's sweaty hair.

(Which, for some really strange reason, was still fluffy even though it's half sweaty.)

There was some background noise behind them--girls gossiping, teachers walking to their offices, their hearts pumping much-needed blood throughout their bodies--but amongst the three of them, a nice silence, which none of them minded, permeated through the air. This silence continued as they descended the stairs, and was only broken as they walked out the main door to be greeted by crowds of their fellow students chittering on the grass. Three friends, each with their heavy backpack on their shoulders, blended into the calm yet lively atmosphere of afterschool Seirin.

Furihata loved the almost poetic qualities of this situation.

"Say, why do we even study world history in school anyway?" he found himself complaining amidst this beauty, "I mean, we're not going to have to start conversation with a foreign guy by talking about what happed hundreds of years ago--"

Before he even finished his sentence, everybody began to laugh, including, surprisingly enough, himself. "What?" He added innocently, "I'm right, aren't I?"

"Furi, no." Fukuda chuckled as he shook his head helplessly, "It's for those people who want to be the president of Japan one day."

Furihata rolled his eyes. He pouted: "Well, why do present world leaders need to learn about the past?"

"Because they do, Furi." The taller male rubbed the brunette's head as he shook a finger, "And even though you don't, there are people who want to become big, rich politicians once they grow up."

Furrowing his brows and curling his lips into a tight frown, Furihata gently slapped Fukuda's hand away from his head. "I'm not a kid." He said, "I'm seriously trying to get an answer here--why do people need to know all about what happened in the past to make a decision about the present?"

Fukuda removed his hand from Furihata's head, mildly saddened by the lack of soft hair against it, before he stuck it in his own, remarkably less soft-to-the-touch hair, and fell into a deep thought, his brows furrowing in thought. The brunette similarly took on an expression of deep pensiveness, and both of them decided to stop and sit on the grass and think about the meaning of their classes. He lifted his head to look at Kawahara, and asked: "Hey Kawa, World History's one of your favorite classes--you know why we have to learn about it?"

Kawahara stood there and silently beheld both of his friends, knowing not whether to laugh or to cry.

"Of course it's because World Leaders need to not make the same mistakes that were made a couple years ago." Looking at the confused look on his friends' faces, Kawahara sighed, "After all human nature hasn't changed that much--you know what, forget it, it's good that you clearly don't want to become a world leader."

Furihata shook his head. "Nope, sounds like too much responsibility."

"Say Furi." asked Fukuda, "what do you want to be when you grow up?"

"Hmm...I don't know, really--I really like science and biology, so a doctor?"

"Ehh, really? Being a doctor sounds so boring, though."

Furihata's eyes went wide in surprise, but soon he shut them to let out a small chuckle as he threw himself onto the grass, not caring that his bangs are being sent into different directions as his body fell from its previous position. 

He answered: "Well, nothing in the world is boring--you're just not putting enough effort into making it not boring. For example," He fingered a the blade of the grass next to him, "Did you know that Grasses are members of the Poacece family and that they include some of the most versatile plant life-forms? They became widespread toward the end of the Cretaceous period, and have played an important role in human agirculture in the form of corn, wheat, and barley?"

"Woah, really?"

"Uh-huh. And the human body--I bet you didn't know that simple pills are often products of years and years of laboratory research, and that some ideas--a notable one being mother's milk curing cancer--don't even get through?"

"N-no..."

"See, everything can be interesting if you put more effort into it." Furihata said.

Kawahara rolled his eyes: "Yet you loathe world history."

"I'm just not bothering to put effort into it since I find it boring, and that teacher doesn't like me."

Kawahara tsked, but Fukuda got ahead of him before he could say anything. "Say, Furi, about that thing you drew earlier." He asked, "It's really good--are you sure you don't want to become a manga artist when you grow up?"

"Yeah, and you spent all that time at that artist's house too." Kawahara added, "You're going that put that talent and that connection to good use, right?"

Furihata paused a little before he decided that telling them won't bring too much trouble if they didn't know the genre. "W-well, I actually am kind of drawing right now, for my part-time job." he explained. Both Fukuda and Kawahara's eyes went wide.

"No way, seriously?" "can you show me some of your works?" The two boy chitter-chattered around their friend and Furihata actually smiles.

It's 4 in the afternoon already, and the white building that looked so starkly crisp in the morning almost looked less starkly crisp and took on a softer visage in the still glittering sun. Furihata, to be honest, can't exactly pinpoint what changed about the scene between morning and now--there was no visible change in the lighting, and it's not as if there aren't swards of students on the grass during mornings.

But something changed as he lied on the grass, and as a tiny gust of wind caressed their scalps and the many types of leaves glittered and shimmered with lighthearted ease Furihata felt every inch of fatigue and boredom he had rise and dissipate into the sky, the way he reckoned polluted air would.

Sometimes emotions are contagious just like various diseases are--like a virus, the disease of sadness starts in one person, jumps to another, to another, to another, and continues jumping until a doctor kills it for good; and like a bacterium, the illness of joy first creeps into one person, wreaks its lovely havoc before finding its next target, and then another, then another until it has invaded the soul of everyone in n the crowd. Perhaps this is why people describe places as having an air of something; why it's so hard to be sad while everyone else is happy and the vice versa; why he's genuinely smiling without any worry when there's a trillion things for him to be worried about.

Maybe the reason so many people are depressed these days is because the clouds hanging above them rain droplets of stress and denial whenever possible, but more often than not there's always someone around who's willing to keep you warm under it and lend you an umbrella.

Furihata smiled as he looked at Fukuda and Kawahara.

Or two.

"Come on, lets get going to the grocery store."He said, getting up from the grass and swinging his backpack and his lunchbag around, "The grocery won't buy themselves."

Fukuda groaned. "Fine, but tell me about your work on our way there."

\--

Furihata and Kawahara laughed their heads off to a video playing on Kawahara's phone as they walked out the grocery store, hands holding as much grocery bags as they can without cutting off circulation while Fukuda just looked at them like idiots.

 

"Oh my god, that video was so funny!" Furihata giggled as he tried to not fall the ground, and Kawahara shared his jubilee as he did everything he can to not collide with the ground in his laughter.

 

Straightening his back, Kawahara managed to put on a straight face."'Yer an asshole, Harry' 'what?' 'Yer an asshole, Harry!'" He haughtily mimicked the tone of the video (and is doing a horrible job at it, but that is beyond the point) as he raised and elevated his eyebrows comically, 'But how can that be, Hagrid? I'm just Harry!' 'Well, Harry, yer an asshole now--'"

 

He coupled his words with an exaggeratedly petulant expression, and Furihata couldn't restrain his laughter anymore. "My goodness, stop talking, Kawahara!" The brunette playfully shoved his bald friend in the back, "You are horrible!"

 

Kawahara bursted out laughing, and Fukuda shook his head at his two friends' antics. He sighed: "Can someone explain to me why you found that video so funny?"

 

"How can you not find that video funny?" Kawahara gasped, "do you have no emotions?"

 

"I just don't see how anyone could find one person calling another asshole funny."

 

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Kawahara snorted. "Well Furi here agrees with me!" He wrapped an arm around the brunette boy, bring him into the conversation "don't you, Furi?"

 

Furihata nodded. "Have you never read Harry potter?" He asked incredulously. Fukuda groaned. "God Furi, don't give me that face, I don't need your pity." the center hissed, "No I haven't, is that a big deal?"

 

Both boys gasped.

 

"You've never read Harry Potter?" Furihata's eyes went wide. "What is your childhood?"

 

Kawahara nodded in agreement, the edges of his eyebrows pulling down in an expression of mock pity. Fukuda groaned. 

 

"Let's just forget this, " He rubbed his temples.

 

The boy then devoted his attention to the large amount of bags they're carrying. "But damn, Furi, you carrying all this home all alone? There's like one, two, three, four, five, six...12 bags in total! I can barely carry four!"

 

"And you have that load of letters, too." Kawahara nodded, pointing to the stack of letter Furihata had retrieved at the post-office,"I won't ask why they all look like love letters, but that's a lot of stuff to carry home alone--are you sure you don't want us to carry some of them for ya?"

 

"No, that would be too much trouble." Furihata replied "I can't make you guys go all the way to the other side of the town."

 

"We don't mind!"

 

"Yeah, Furi, we seriously don't mind. We're going to feel guilty for making you carry all this alone."

 

"Thanks, but no thanks." Furihata grabbed all his grocery bags, and winced a little at the weight--Fukuda was right, this was really heavy--but forced himself to smile as he lifted them up by means of nothing but sheer will, "I can't cause you guys trouble for my sake."

 

His friends frowned. "Alright, if you say so." Kawahara said, "see you tomorrow?"

 

Furihata nodded. And the two began to walked toward their own destination. It's clear that they didn't like his answer, but they nevertheless left Furihata alone to his own devices and, looking at his friends' retreating backs, Furihata sighed. Kawahara and Fukuda were genuinely nice people, and he knew that they were really only trying to help, but sometimes they have the tendency to treat him like some mix of a lost puppy and a child and, in spite of what he looked like, he was an independent man, not a lost puppy.

 

Now, where's that bus stop Fukuda told him about?

 

\--

 

He's at the bus stop alright. If he's not, then what are those long, rectangular vehicles of various colors and numbers lined up next to the sign beside him? Looking around in the garden of colorful buses, Furihata tried to recall Fukuda's directions.

 

"Just take bus 18 all the way to its final stop. When you get off the bus your house should be right there."

 

Alright, so he's looking for bus 18. Turning his head left and right, Furihata squinted his eyes as they glanced at the numbers on the vehicles, searching for the number 18. 21, nope, 1--1--13, nope. That's an 8--nope, 28, not 18. Wait, is that--

 

He coughed a little at the car exhaust. Fanning himself, he continued looking for his goal and tried to ignore the stinging stench of the road.

 

Oh, another 1. 1-18. That's his bus. Hurriedly, the boy fished out a couple of coins for the fare and clumsily counted them in his sweaty palm, before finally bending down to gently pick up all six of his bags. (Gently, as to not aggravate the pain in his not-so-strong forearms--) As he made his way to the tanned vehicle and nearly screamed from the excruciating pain on his hands as well as on his forearms, the driver got a little annoyed looking at him--after all, boys his age should be stronger--and beeped loudly as he made a gesture to leave if Furihata doesn't hurry up.

 

The annoyance in his eyes made Furihata shiver in mild guilt. The brunette immediately started to run towards the bus instead of walking, managing to hop onto the bus by a hair's breath before the doors cut him in half. Successfully avoiding eye contact with the burly-looking driver the entire time, he paid his fee and steadily walked to the back of the bus. Plopping onto one of the slightly worn seat by the window, he winced--his forearms really hurt--and loosened his hands, letting the bags just fall around him.

 

It's alright, there's not a whole lot of people going this way at this hour.

 

Furihata slipped his chocolate eyes closed and just laid his body there, only paying half a mind to the groceries he bought. (do not do this, kids) as the mass of muscle and bone relaxed on the leather and a gradually slowing heartbeat coursed through his body with the hazy light of dawn. The beating of the heart was gentle, and Kouki could almost feel the exchange of venal and arterial blood washing away the pain of his forearms as the liquid ran from his heart all the way down to his feet and then back up again. His brain almost felt like it didn't exist anymore in this bliss, and it fell deeper into the abyss and deeper and deeper and--

 

Okay, he's not falling asleep here. Giving himself a hard slap on the knee, he hit himself awake. If he sleeps now he won't be able to finish his homework, and he won't be able to get up in time, and he can't carry out his duties. No, must keep himself awake, but what should he do to keep himself awake amidst this suffocatingly comforting atmosphere? It's back to the morning again--Kouki's body is crying to not move, but he had to. Sitting up, he moved the grocery bags a bit closer to him in the otherwise empty vehicle and smiled as he caught his backpack in the process.

 

Okay, he'll read some of his letters. Or really, one letter in particular.

 

He removed the scarlet envelope from the stack of envelope in his backpack and gently, with his fingers, peeled the outer flap separate from the rest of the letter, trying his best to not rip the delicate envelope (What? It was a beautiful piece of paper.) To be honest, he wasn't really expecting Red to reply--he thought he had sassed and embarrassed the poor guy enough--but hey, any correspondence is welcome, even unexpected ones. Frontal lobe nticipating what the guy would say, Kouki snorted as he unfolded the letter. Perhaps Red's an embarrassed little boy, or perhaps he's a cocky teenager who had written him back just to curse him with made-up insults--aww, that's kinda cute--or...

 

"Greetings, my dear Furiha-sensei"

 

Or not. Kouki's eyes went wide, a blush creeping onto his cheeks from...these little words. Seriously, Furihata? You draw gay porn and you blush because somebody addressed you as "dear"? He shook his head and continued to read.

 

"Greetings, my dear Furiha-sensei:

You cannot possibly fathom the extent of joy your last letter has brought me. I am immeasurably honored and humbled that an important person such as yourself have taken time out of your, doubtlessly, bustling life to respond to a letter such as my own, for, surely, the number of letters you receive on a daily basis could only be adequately described as " countless ". I reckon that you reply to a good percentage of your letters regardless of content--from that alone I must remark that you are a man of uttermost kindness and worthy of my complete respect.

Of course, in addition to the fact that you are a brilliantly capable artist.

You are a fan of high school basketball? How lovely, so am I. Are you a high school student like I am? Whichever answer you will give for that question shall baffle me--If you weren't, then your obvious interest would be a tad strange; if you were, then your talent at such a young age renders me agape--so please do tell me the truth, for I am genuinely curious and nothing more. Regarding my relation with basketball, I suppose I could be a player myself, but I actually much prefer to watch the game instead of participating in it. Nevertheless, you ought to have more confidence in your capabilities, at least when you are talking to others. I'm sure you are not as horrible as you believe yourself to be.

My favorite team is Rakuzan. What is your favorite team? Your favorite player?

Oh look, I am getting ahead of myself. Please forgive my foolishness.

Regarding your work, I personally believe there to be nothing wrong with finding inspiration for your literary works within your everyday life; in fact, the whole purpose of manga and other works of art is to elevate all that is present in mundane life to a higher level, and I would say that you have done a rather proficient job in this goal. Yes, as admittedly deviant as some of your characters are from their muses in reality, you have done a wonderful job in creating something that originates from them yet is much more superior. If someone takes issue with that, then that is their issue.

Love,  
Red

P.S.: Do you feel like there's something missing, or something off in this letter, Sensei?

P. P. S.: After perusing your last letter, I must remark that you are quite the snarky one, sensei. Throwing all these subtle insults at my masculinity, using all those silly faces, teasing me yet trying so obviously hard to not hurt my feelings--did you genuinely believe for a second that I didn't notice your little antics, as entertaining as they were? I am not lacking in intelligence, in spite of what my initial letter and actions might suggest. Speaking of the topic, allow me to apologize for "my" utterly, utterly disgusting writing that, ironically enough, started this wonderful correspondence between us. You may wonder why I have put the word "my" in quotation marks, and the appropriate answer would be that this letter wasn't exactly written by my hand. I am ashamed to confess that I had allowed my friend to take his own liberties with my original letter, for he gathered that my style of writing would intimidate you and I, brainlessly enough, believed him.

After reading your response, however, I recognize that he had been gravely mistaken and--I apologize if my actual style of writing does terrify you--I would like to correspond with you in my original way of writing from now on, instead of returning to that doltish manner again.

But, on another note, I must compliment your deductive intelligence. Not many people are capable of such accurate conjectures simply from a piece of bad writing, but once again, I ought to have expected this from such a talented artist as yourself."

Furihata blushed.

Well. What did he just read?

Furihata stared at the ornate paper in his hands, momentarily speechless and really not sure what his reaction should be. On one hand, he feels like a happy dog that's wagging his tail at the plethora of compliments "Red" had thrown his way; but then, on the other hand, he also wants to shove his blushing face into the closest home because he had been officially played in that post-script.

Well, either way the brunette is mentally screaming in embarrassment.

This was not what he expected. He knew that Red wasn't the brainless fangirl that he tried to be, but...the only word he could find that can describe this writing style was "damn". Like, damn. He felt like he had been physically caressed by a letter.

As the bus rolled into the final station, the only thing he's thinking about was how he's supposed to reply to this letter. Perhaps he had dazed off for a tad to long, because the next thing he knows is the driver's gruff voice dropping a large stone in his pool of deep thought with a "Oi, kid! ".

Looking up into the driver's angry face, Furihata yelled a quick sorry as he skittered off of the bus, the driver rolling his eyes behind the smoke of a lit cigarette. Groceries in hand, Furihata briefly checked out his surroundings to ascertain that he was, indeed, in familiar territory and began walking. 

Well, " walking".

It seemed that the brief rest of his arms only made the muscles that much more tired than they were before, and the appendages, having gotten the chance to appreciate what rest was in the middle of this suffering, whined as two feet grunted and matched towards their destination with more weight than they, perhaps, preferred. Tough luck, buddy. He said to himself. He shut his eyes and continued walking.

Just a little bit more, his mind encouraged him, honestly, you would have had to do a lot more walking if Fukuda didn't know this bus. He had somewhat successfully distracted himself from the heavy load with thoughts of the letter, but, just when he was about five more blocks from his house, the feeling of his tendons ripping off of his bones and every single of his muscle fibers snapping and just... Just the strain caught up to him and he collapsed, right there in the middle of the street.

Furihata tried to stand up and continue dragging his groceries home, but his legs seemed adamant on keeping him on the ground. People were staring, and the embarrassed smile he's putting on its really beginning to hurt his face. "Come on." He cursed himself, "only two more blocks--come on..."

"Hey." A voice called from above him, "want some help with that?"

Furihata tilted his head up to see a large man--perhaps he should say boy, since now that he looked a bit closer the guy was about his age--that was staring at him with lazy, but surely concerned silver eyes. The guy was tall and... Is that cornrows he see on his head?

Muttering a yes, Furihata gladly allowed the stranger to help with some of his fallen groceries.

As he walked behind the guy, the brunette just can't help but think that he's seen this cornrowed guy somewhere before. Definitely not at school, so somewhere in the neighborhood? Oh, now that he thinks about it, it's something to do with book--

Books?!

Chocolate eyes went wide. "Y-you..." Furihata accused shakily as he pointed a finger at v the guy, "you're that guy who stole the book in that bookstore!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about splitting this chapter in 3, but just didn't feel right. Also, before any of you ask, yes. That guy at last was Haizaki Shougo. He would play an important role in this story. I'm so sorry for not updating until now, but if you have any comments, suggestions, or criticisms please don't be afraid to leave a review!
> 
> Thank you for following my story!


	12. A Day in the Life of Haizaki Shougo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;-; It's been so long since I updated...I've been busy. Anyway, we get a look at Haizaki's life here because he'll be important here, though I think that'll be obvious as I carry on with this story ^_^. Though, warning...? There will a bit of violence here and a lot of swearing?

Haizaki Shougo tried not to groan in frustration as he looked at the kid, he really did. Remind him why he bothered to help this kid again? He could have just left the dude to struggle on his own like the pathetic lot that he is--it wouldn't have done him any harm--but, oh right, of course he had to let his "conscience" take over and now this kid is pointing at him like he's some wanted criminal.

(He's probably as good as a wanted criminal to someone, but that's beyond the point.)

The boy lamented his luck as the other demonstrated no intention of moving from that idiotic position. Maybe he should have brought that lucky item along with him after all, though today sure seemed normal up until this point: He got up at nine, arrived at his new school by ten (Fukuda High had kicked his sorry ass right back to Tokyo after he lost that game against Kise, since what's the use of a problem student like him if he can't even win in basketball games? Ain't no big deal--he saw it coming anyway), lazed through a couple of classes before he decided to skip the fuck outta school. He was going to flirt (and maybe have sex) with some girls at Maji burger's, but when he got to the place he didn't see any girls and instead bumped into that asshole who gave those Rainbowheads a hard time some days ago.

You know, the one with the strange-ass eyebrows? Hanamiya Makoto? Yeah, that Asshole.

Leaning obnoxiously against some gate, the weird-looking guy was hanging out with his similarly weird-looking homies, all looking ghastly as fuck in their blue-green jerseys when Hanamiya, for some odd reason, caught sight of and recognized him. Eyebrows decided to beckoned him over and Haizaki, having nothing better to do, went to talk to him. Now, Hanamiya's an infamous asshole, but Haizaki's an infamous asshole too. In fact, Haizaki's probably the bigger asshole here--at least Hanamiya had some brains and can still reign the scoreboard even while skipping school, but Haizaki just couldn't give a fuck.

Because why should he give a fuck about anything?

Anyway, the two assholes had a meeting and, surprisingly enough, they got along and kind of bonded over their common hatred for the glittering rainbowheads and those so called "nice people". They left the Maji parking lot together and did some other things like play basketball and listen to music, but all Haizaki really remembered was that he and Hanamiya had somehow exchanged numbers on their first meeting and set a time to meet tomorrow.

Hey, not bad--first day at the new place and he already has some connections to a rich school dude. Hanamiya's a total dick, though. Haizaki never thought someone would chuck a squirrel onto the train tracks, and, to be honest, he thinks thats a little fucked up--what did the squirrel even do to you, man?--but hey, assholes hang out with other assholes. He's an asshole, so he gotta find other assholes to hang with. That's gotta be a law somewhere.

But back to the present. This kid is looking at him like he just killed someone, and Haizaki just had to groan at the utter fear that seeped through those eyes: Jesus Christ, he thought, I stole a manga. I didn't kill your mom in front of your large puppy-dog eyes so why the fuck are you looking like you're gonna faint any moment?

"Yeah, I am." He answered the kid matter-of-factly, not dropping the boy's way-too-heavy-for-him bags just yet, "You have a problem with that?"

At that, the - brunette - dude shuddered, and--oh for fuck's sake--he was actually shaking. Those abnormally large eyes got the size of dinner plates as their owner began to make incoherent noises: "I-I-I...uh..."

The boy stuttered, and Haizaki raised an eyebrow.

"If you do, I'm more that happy to drop these heavy ass bags on your feet."

The boy whimpered.  
  
"Looks like you don't want that, so shut the fuck up."

That shut him up nicely. Haizaki stepped back into his previous position, right in front of the brunette boy, and slung the bags over his shoulder. He was about to move when he stopped. Oh yeah, he needed a place to drop off the bags. Not daring to turn his head back and make eye contact with the kid, Haizaki asked: "Where do ya live, little dude?"

"U-uh...a c-c-couple, l-like five b-blocks that-a-way a-a-and the f-f-four--"

"Five blocks and fourth house down. Jesus, kid, learn to talk."

"S-sorry..."

Haizaki groaned. He hissed: "Don't say sorry so much. What are you, an apologetic mushroom?" and, ignoring a mild protest from the brunette, began to march toward his newfound destination. The shorter boy, with a gasp, skittered behind him. With that the two boys, one tall and one short, walked toward the brunette's house. A couple banged-up cars rolled past them, and some grey dust got blown up onto the sidewalk with a gush of air, making some old hags down the street cough. As they turned to not-so-politely eject dust particles from their lungs some stray chihuahua, wagging its tail, ran up to their side to beg for some food.

Haizaki's face twitched as one of the old ladies started to hit the poor little guy with her cane.

He saw that dog around the neighborhood sometimes. Once, he even followed the chihuahua back to its homebase in the parking lot where some "nice" person made him a doghouse and gave him food (but, apparently, couldn't take him in). Haizaki doesn't know the dog's name, but he's not a bad dog--just a little skittish around strangers.

Speaking of which--he turned around to look at the little dude behind him--this guy kinda looks a bit like him, the chihuahua. I mean, he's got the large eyes and the fluffy brunette hair going on. Thinking while he walked, the tall male switched the bags around in his hands, just to let off of some pressure on the joints, and frowned as he did so - the grocery bags really were too heavy for an ordinary person to carry; if he didn't come along, or was raised in a pompous household like a certain red-haired brat he knew was, chihuahua-kun here would have either broken a limb or sat himself into sunset.

Soon enough, the two arrived at chihuahua-kun's "house" and, with a thump, the taller male dropped the bags in front of the grey building. To be honest, Haizaki wouldn't call this sandwiched townhouse, so like his own place a couple houses down, a "house" in spite of the little decorations that littered about the door and the general warm and well-maintained air it gave, but chihuahua-kun insisted on calling it that--

"T-thank you! J-j-just put them r-right there in front of the house!" Chihuahua-kun stuttered, though a bit of genuine gratefulness was mixed with his nervousness this time. Haizaki scowled.

"Don't carry so much stuff next time, okay?" He admonished. The second his last word dropped, a gale swung by and threatened to blow one of the bags away. With one large step, Haizaki grabbed the and, in the process, stood in front of the kid.

Now that he looked at the kid closely, the brunette kid looked even more like a whimpering chihuahua, but there was something...pleasant about him. They say a person resembles the house he grew up in, and Haizaki never believed that until he laid eyes upon this guy. Like his house, the kid was plain but warm and soft-looking. His uniform was a bit wrinkled, but it was, as clearly shown through the shineless fabric, very frequently washed and well-treasured. The fluffy brunette hair stood up a little on the ends, and Haizaki wanted to rub his hands across it the way one would a small animal's fur. Actually, the kid's really small. Like, Akashi Seijuurou small. No, probably even a couple centimeters shorter than that.

As Haizaki stood there, the kid started to whimper while muttering some sort of acknowledgment of Haizaki's words. Eventually, he jumped back and, for some reason, Haizaki felt just a little guilty for scaring the poor little dude.

The cornrowed man turned around to leave, but, a few steps in toward his abode, he suddenly felt the urge to at least ask the guy's name. "Hey you." He yelled from the other side of the, currently, empty street, "what's your name?"

The chihuahua stopped and lifted his brunette head up at the others voice, hands taking a brief break from cleaning up his doorway as his eyes--milk chocolate--widened a little at the other's request. With the sinking, bloody sunset dusking upon his soft features and his tiny shoulders and his mountain of plastic bags, the boy gave a feeble, but nevertheless existent smile.

"Furihata Kouki." The boy replied, "that's my name."

Furihata Kouki, eh? Haizaki nodded, giving chihuahua-kun--no, Furihata now--a polite curve of the lips before he left for his own little grey townhouse.

\---

As soon as Shougo stepped onto the cracked and crooked doormat, dusty with remnants of failures and disappointments from long before, he knew whatever good feelings he managed to retain would either leave or take a severe beating. In comparison with the Furihatas' warm, well-managed atmosphere, the Haizakis' "house" reeked of a cold disorderliness, and if there's one place Shougo hated more than school, it's his home.

He carelessly shoved the door open, knowing that it is, like always, not locked and, as expected, the wooden block opened up into a haphazard conglomerate of alcohol bottles, spilled pills, and furniture that were buried beneath piles of trash that should have been thrown away long ago. The door itself swung into a half-eaten takeout box and, with a screech, two cockroaches skittered out of their nest of plastic and into a cracked wall.

Shougo didn't even pay it the slightest bit of mind, having gotten used to this, all of this, a long time ago. He didn't dare take his shoes off, in case he might step into a dead rat's carcass or something. Grey orbs turned left and right, searching for a trace of his mother's presence as he stepped into the dark living room (or what used to be) and, of course, the mother was not in sight.

"Hey hag," the boy scowled in the general direction of his mother's bedroom, "did you fucking cook for once or did you spend your day moping in that rat's nest again?"

No sound. Shougo rolled his eyes and slammed the door shut, locking it while he's at it. He kicked the plastic takeout box into another corner of the room, shoved some crap off of the blotched couch, and laid himself into the furniture, eyes glazing over the mountain of stuff that laid between him and a TV that hasn't been turned on for centuries as he just sat there and mused.

Sometimes he actually considered cleaning this place up. Maybe he'll throw out some stuff (including pictures of father), borrow a vacuum from someone and clean up the floor, wipe down the entire place, put some bugtraps and some mousetraps around, fill the refrigerator with some actual food, and throw away the alcohol and the pills and the syringes. You know, make this place look nice for once--he'd kinda forgotten what this placed looked like with open shades and no shit lying around, after all.

But then he'd remember that there's no point in doing that. A day, sometimes two, is all it takes for his mother to fuck up everything again worse than before.

(An hour after he leaves the house, the pristine walls he had spent so long cleaning would be splattered with unknown fluid; two hours after he leaves, the food he had stored in the fridge would be exchanged for alcohol--or pills, depending on whatever she craves that day; of course she'd close the shades--that woman can't stand light for some reason--and then she'd throw the snot-filled tissues everywhere as she reminisces about her pathetic self and reduce the room to an utter filth in the way.)

Shougo's ears perked at a shuffle of fabrics that emanated from his mother's room and, soon enough, there stood his mother in all her haggard, emaciated glory. Her large, colourless grey eyes threw a lifeless stare his way; chapped, bloodstained lips muttering a blurred "Hey, Ya going to cook or what?" before the piss-coloured skeleton bent over in a coughing fit and some half-digested puke formed a pile on the floor. Shougo raised an eyebrow.

"I ain't dealing with that." He commented.

The woman glared at him. A scratchy, cracked voice hissed: "Would it seriously kill you to show some respect towards your mother, young man?" and, with a sigh that sounded more like an expression of discomfort than of exasperation, the petit woman went into the kitchen. Shougo's eyes semiconsciously followed the woman as she came out with another bottle of vodka and began to sip at the bottle with a perked pinky.

And there she is, sipping and sipping, eyes blank and deep in whatever hell she dug herself into.

Shougo didn't move, and the two just remained like that in this mess, mother drinking and son lying on the couch. The rats chitter-chattered behind them, surely having a festive party with their families. Oh yeah, Shougo thought, definitely having a blast in there. Probably talking about rat gossip or something like that shit while piles of crap rotted in front of their doors.

Ooh, or they could be having a family reunion in there. Daddy rat would be all puffed up in his little suit, throwing undeserving praise his son's way and dirtying his clothes while he stuffed his face full of cheese, or whatever rats ate. The other relatives would giggle, and the son would bury his face in embarrassment as he yelled "DAD!". Granny rat would nonchalantly comment: "he was just like you when you were a kid" upon the fancy table and Mommy rat, in her flour-stained apron, would bring upon the feast, smiling while she said--

"Marrying your father was the biggest mistake of my life."

The voice popped Shougo right out of his antesomnial musings. The woman didn't change her bitter, downpointed expression as her son, turning his head from the couch, looked at her with unabashed annoyance. Those chapped lips kept on muttering and fluttering, those particular words wickedly clear against the other mumble-jumbled mess, and Shougo groaned, eyes rolling out of spite.

She demanded: "Say something, Shougo." and Shougo just sat there, trying to understand what the hell she wants.

What does she want him to say? He wanted to ask, Does she want him to say that his father was evil, that he's subhuman, that he's better off dead even though he's already dead? Or perhaps she would like Shougo to admit that he's better off not existing, that if he was never born she would have been better off?

Women. You never get what the hell they're thinking.

The room continued to ring with deafening silence. Well, unless you counted that grumbling and mumbling of hers as anything worth listening to. Shougo sighed, preparing to slip back into his little nap and ignore that mess. Of course, life would not let him have that. The second his being stepped, and was about to fade into the oh-so-welcoming sea of black, his consciousness was spiked awake by a loud crash behind him and he doesn't open his eyes, even though he's now wide awake, because he knows exactly what that sound is and who caused it.

His mind had gotten used to it; Shougo just hates the fact that his ears haven't yet.

There was a shuffling of clothes and a slight creak, presumably caused by someone getting off of a chair, and Shougo can feel that someone moving about the room listlessly through his closed eyelids. He kept those eyelids closed as that someone wandered closer and closer and, eventually, stood right next to him without a sound aside from the creepy breathing he can feel on his face. The woman--his mother--remained like that for a good, peaceful thirty seconds before she hissed:

"Make dinner and clean up this mess."

Shougo remained silent, pretending that he's still asleep.

"I know you're awake, Shougo. Wake up and make dinner and clean up this mess."

Oh, so that didn't work. Shougo groaned in disappointment, half-heartedly masking it as a discontented yawn, complete with the closed eyes. He blinked one grey eye open, locking it with the elder's much more wrinkled, much more insane-looking one, and said: "There's nothing for me to cook with, hag."

He watched as the woman's face transitioned from genuine tiredness to insanity to straight out madness within a period of ten seconds. Her grey pupils wildly dilated, those already-clear veins became even more obvious. she screeched "Don't call me hag!" before she brought down the object in her hand--a broken-in-half beer bottle--towards Shougo's face. As the green-tinted glass glistened (from what, he didn't know--there was no light in this room), Shougo rolled off of the bed, stood up on his feet, and slapped the old hag in her face. That didn't quiet her down, and the old hag yelled some more nonsense as she charged toward her son, again, with the broken glass aimed towards his face.

At that moment, as the broken glass glared at him, sleepy Shougo disappeared; Trouble-avoiding Shougo disappeared; Just-bear-with-it Shougo disappeared, and an angry, bloodthirty, sick-of-everything Shougo took his place. Adrenaline flooded his bloodstream, turning him into something else, threatening to overwrite his DNA and all of his past with its atoms.  
  
A pair of large, very masculine pair of hands shoved the glass object away and threw its wielder onto the ground. The broken bottle flew away from the two, rolling monotonously as the female laid on the ground. Her body was limp, almost lifeless without the menacing object in her hands, but her face was wild and unyielding, sputtering nonsense and hissing and screaming at her son as he sat on her torso. He slapped her again, but she won't stop talking and Shougo decided that she'll need something a bit more meaningful.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pocket knife, pointed the blade at the woman's throat, and hissed a quiet "Shut the fuck up" even though he didn't need to say anything. He snorted as the woman's eyes went wide, and, much to his immediate annoyance, started crying.

"I practically raised you all on my own, Shougo! Your father never loved--never wanted me, and he never wanted you either! I gave birth to and raised you, Shougo!" She sobbed, "You should be grateful, b-but you point a k-k-kn---"

Shougo groaned, retracting his knife and letting go of her. He watched as the woman got up, took one last disgruntled look at him, and skittered back into the rat's nest that used to be shared with her husband, and slid the knife back into his pocket. Cleaning up the scattered glass, Shougo silently hissed at a cut on his eyelid that he didn't notice. It's not bleeding a whole lot, but DAMN it hurts.

"I gave birth you!" She said. Shougo snorted. She says that like it's something to be proud of, like it's something he should be grateful to her for, like she did him a favor--Shougo never asked to be born. Honestly, he would have been fine with being disconnected pieces of fetal tissue in an abortion clinic.

Nothing he can do about it, though.

He sighed, slamming the shards into the waste basket before he walked out of the living room and stepped into his own, remarkably neater though not by much, bedroom.

Honestly, it's not too bad: sure, the furniture all deficits in some way or another (he didn't bother getting new ones or fixing them, since what's the point of spending so much effort on a place for sleeping and reading porn, anyway?), and the place looks like it hasn't been vacuumed in a year, but its... Cozy and lived in, he suppose? He wouldn't bring someone here, but there's nothing in his room that he needs to hide.

Well, nothing aside from this.

Shougo reached under his cracked bed, pulled out a plastic bag, and, grabbing the bag by its handles, pulled the plastic bag and its contents onto the mattress where the most of his body laid in a semi-lying position. He pulled open the plastic to reveal what chihuahua-kun--no, Furihata had been whining about on the streets.

As he stared at the illustration on the cover of the manga, Shougo silently lamented his current predicament.

Story time.

When he was little, he often ran to the bookstore near his home to hide from his parents after they beat him and, of course, he always picked the manga section because it's the most difficult and convoluted one to find. One day, when he was about 10, he discovered a manga about a gay couple and, out of curiosity, he began to read it. He enjoyed that book, and actually read all of the series in the bookstore.  
  
And then he realized that there's actually an entire genre dedicated to such plotlines. Since that day he would run to the bookstore and read yaoi (as the genre was apparently called) every time his mother tried to beat him. Maybe it's there that Shougo developed this weird hobby...  
  
(To be honest, he liked the concept of love between men a lot better--how did no man realize that women are just shallow, barely-multicellular brained animals that only demand and bitch when something doesn't go their way? Boys can understand each other better; they can actually devote to each other without having to smear plasters and plasters of tooth-rotting declarations of love like one has to do with a woman. Sex was apparently better, too.)

He almost cried when he heard that it was abnormal for a guy to enjoy yaoi and that, apparently, it was aimed for girls. For a while Shougo tried to rid himself of this preference, violently fapping and having sex with women to get rid of the homosexual thoughts in his head, but eventually he got tired and decided that he'll deal with it. After all, liking men isn't the most horrible thing about him. Since then, Shougo has taken notice of beautiful looking boys around him and... God... Developed little crushes on some of them.

Actually, if he were to be completely honest, he kinda wants a relationship with a man as well. Shougo sighed.

Well, that's for later. Shougo flipped open the book, titled "My manager can't be this cute!" (For your information, He didn't steal this because he didn't have money; he just didn't want to deal with the girls at the checkout. They made him sick.) He usually doesn't buy the books--they're too incriminating--but this is his favorite work by his favorite artist yet. There's just something beautiful about the way Furiha Kou draws his art and just something so relatable about each and every one of his (yes, apparently Furiha-sensei is a "he", which made Shougo very happy for some odd reason.) stories and--ooh, Furiha-sensei is just amazing.

He had read this through once already, but Shougo just can't help re-reading it over and over again. Thumbing through the familiar pages, Shougo sensibly chuckled as he followed the lighthearted plot, feeling an awful sense of pity for the model, Kimatsu Ryoukio, and his manager, Kasase Yukita, who also happened to be his love interest, along the way. In the beginning Shougo hated Kasase because he looked like one of those goody-two-shoes, but after a few pages he realized that Kasase was just less outspoken about his obvious affection for Kimatsu and really cared and watched over the blond model like a senpai. That got him on Shougo's good side.

In fact, Kasase reminded him a bit of another black-haired sempai of another blond-haired model he knew back in middle school.  
  
But, anyway, Kimatsu was his darling from the beginning. Even though he appears so bubbly he was deeply insecure and jaded, having been reduced to a mere replication of everybody else's expectations of him and copying things he's seen without thinking about how he felt and--Shougo can understand how he felt, and as the model fails, time and time again, in his efforts to find and sustain love, Shougo's heart broke for him and the sympathy-mixed irritation just continues to build until--

The cornrowed male had to take a deep breath to contain his excitement.

Until Kimatsu and Kasase kissed in the parking lot of the suite! Seriously, it is about time that Kasa get out of his shell and show Kimatsu some desperately-needed love! I mean, it's cool that he's shy and all, but Mr. Yellow's had too much suffering in his life to be disappointed just because the love of his life is a bit awkward with affection!

As Shougo sat in his room, reading one yaoi manga after another, the sky outside of his window turned the color of his eye and then to a deeper, almost ominous looking shade. The wind howled through a slight crack in his windowpane, hissing and moaning while the originally dim sunlight darkened to the extent that he can't read without turning on his light that laid one-too-many steps away from his bed. The boy, not moving an inch from his bed, put his manga back into his bag and slid it back into its crevice. Then, he laid back into the bed, not knowing what to do. He briefly considered doing his homework, but just can't find the motivation to do it.

Shougo decided to just shut his eyes and sleep instead.

\---

He was expecting to wake up at 10, not at 7 due to a cellphone message from none other than Hanamiya Makoto. Groaning, he clicked open the message.

"Heeeeey Mr. Grey guess I woke you up, eh?"

Fuck yeah he did, and Haizaki sure ain't happy about it. The phone beeped angrily at the violent touch of his fingers: "You fucking eyebrow bastard."  
  
As the message was being sent, the boy took it upon himself to chuck the metal object somewhere else and yawned, rubbing his eyes. What should he do?

Well, he didn't change out of his outfit so he had that going for him--maybe he'll actually go to school early today, he thought, since he has nothing better to do and sure ain't falling back asleep.

Stretching his back, Haizaki walked to the closet to change out of his blue-green jersey. Oh no, it's not because he thought it would smell bad to anyone--it just so happened that Kirisaki Dai Ichi's uniform looked exactly like it, and he can't have people confusing him with some rich school brat. Not that they would even if he didn't change it, though; he looked like a piece of trash, with or without the jersey.

Still, he didn't like the thought. He took off his blue-green jersey, replaced it with his characteristic red one, and sighed as unpleasant memories flowed into his head. Well, what was he expecting? He was an asshole to these guys because he could win games, so if he couldn't do that he should have anticipated what was coming to him--

His phone buzzed, and Haizaki reluctantly turned to pick up the object that had landed by his side. For a second, he didn't want to open the phone, but something told him to do it.

And he never hated himself so much as he did at that moment.

"Aww, don't be so defensive." The text read, "My eyebrows are sexy, but they have nothing to do with this, kay?"

Haizaki raised one slim eyebrow. Hanamiya's eyebrows? Sexy? Whoever the fuck can put these two words together in the same sentence without some form of negation should go to a mental hospital. He typed: "Fuck you, First day meeting you and you annoy the shit outta me."

The reply was quick: "Now now we don't want you to be late, do we?"

"U dont know me."

"Sure I don't, now go to school like a good boy."

"Fuck you."

"You're nice."

"You're nicer, Hanamiya."

"Of course I'm nicer than you, you dork. (●'◡'●)”

Haizaki grabbed something edible from a pile of stuff and put it into his mouth. "Seeing you use that face makes me want to puke." he typed.

"you asshole, can't I be cute?"

"With those ungodly eyebrows? No."

"Hey, we were thinking of inviting you to come along with me and the crew at second o'clock today! now you're making me reconsider.

"Please do."  
  
Haizaki, with an gallant step, marched onto the street. Wow, he thought as he beheld the scene in front of him , there's a lot more people on the streets than he had been used to. Countless faces--some well-known and some not-so-well known--passed him by, a good number of them turning to cast a judgmental glare upon his tall figure. Said figure turned his head away and ignored it.

Actually, a better word would be bathing in it.

His phone rang once more. Haizaki groaned.

"You're so mean, Mr. A-hole, but I know you're up, and you've gotta get to school, so ttyl?"

Fuck him and his eyebrows.

Haizaki slid his phone into his pocket and started to move towards his school, yawning as he moved at an almost sauntering pace. As he walked, two guys came into his field of view. One was the guy that was with him in the bookstore (Haizaki didn't know his name, but those split eyebrows left quite the unforgettable impression) and the other was none other than Furihata Kouki. They were laughing as they walked down the street, and--ooh, Furihata's uniform had been ironed straight. With his uniform neat, he really looked like a hardworking, humble honor student.

Ahhh. He looks so cute in his school uniform, Haizaki thought.

...And that's not creepy-sounding at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...how do you like him? I tried to not make him OOC but to give him another dimension instead? I don't know, I don't think I've succeeded here...
> 
> Oh, and BTW, my updates will be slower than usual since school is HELL this year, so...*bows* if you have any suggestions, comments, or criticisms please don't be afraid to drop a comment!


	13. For the First Time in Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's break this week for me so I can actually do some writing T_T I have two tests next week, so no updates before that...but anyway, here this chapter is! Furihata and Akashi meets face-to-face and Furihata has a fangirl session. Bonus of Sassy Masaomi and Furihata's mom!
> 
> Thank you for reading! I promise, not the next chapter, but the next chapter after that there will be a long, lengthy AkaFuri moment!

On a certain train that's traversing from Kyoto to Tokyo, Akashi Seijuurou chuckled as he read through a letter. Whom is the letter from, you ask? Well, you've followed up to this point, can't you guess? Yes, of course it's from none other than the--remarkably adorable, as Akashi had come to learn--Furiha-sensei.

 

"Hello Red:

W-well, this is embarrassing. (///〇□//〇）I didn't know that you didn't write the letter! I'm sorry! I just thought that it was...uh...uh...Why would that person think that you need to hide yourself? I didn't know you're actually this...elegant! Ahhh I want to die in a home somewhere!

...How about let's just drop this and pretend it never happened? HAHAHA (｡ŏ﹏ŏ)

So, your favorite team is Rakuzan? Do you go to school there? It's in Kyoto, so the scenery must be very pretty, right? With all the temples and cherry trees, you must feel like a you are in a trip to the past with every step...Ahh, I'm so excited to to go there for the Kyoto Yaoi Con! ^ ^♪, but Tokyo is beautiful and gorgeous in its own way too! I'm presuming that you have never left Kyoto, so you should totally come visit sometimes! Oh, and yes, I'm a high school student, so I actually go to Seirin! My school beat yours in the winter cup, ha! But please don't say stuff like I'm worthy of the utmost respect--it makes me so...ack! (｡ŏ﹏ŏ)I just happened to be good at something and decided to make good use of it, but I'm also horrible at other things too! For example, I suck at basketball T_T But if you're so good, why don't you join the team? 

Sorry, if you don't want to tell me that's fine, but you really should make use of talents that you have! After all, these talents and weaknesses are what makes us...us, right? If we don't then all of us will be just carbon copies of each other and we don't want that, right?

Anyway, I really should stop basing my characters on real people (._.). I mean, I don't know if you actually knew the GoM as you said in the first letter, but these guys are just a big ball of gay sexual tensions. Nevertheless, I'm really imposing on their personal freedom and I feel really guilty about it, but you just can't know them and NOT write stuff about these guys... Oh Look! I'm talking so much about my woes--it must annoy you, heh? Time for me to ask my questions! how did you get into Yaoi? Did you get it through your girlfriend? ( •̀ᴗ-) Are there any other authors you like? Are you going to be there at the Kyoto Yaoi Con?

I think I got a little ahead of myself there, but please do reply! To...to be honest, I'm in love with your style of writing--you should write something to be published in the future!

Furiha Kou"

 

"Hey Sei-chan" Reo asked, head poking over from the seat next to the redhead, "what are you smiling over?"

Akashi put down the precious letter and stared at Reo silently, causing the elder to wince at the the dramatic shift in his expression, the icy visage of his captain glaring at him almost sending the taller male out the window in its fierceness--Nevertheless, the black-haired male remained in his seat, albeit a bit terrified as he hardened his grab on a Chihiro that had been looking idly out of the window. The third year, at the sensation on his arm, turned his head back to give Akashi a cautionary glare for terrorizing his boyfriend. 

The freshman didn't back down, though he somewhat contained his venom as he turned to face Reo again. At the taller's puppy-like expression, the redhead sighed. He placed the letter down by his side before finally caving in to the taller's wishes: 

"Well, it's a letter." He said.

"That doesn't tell me anything!" The taller male whined, "Who is the letter from? That green-haired fella who invited us here? That cute point guard by his side? Ooh! Or is it..." 

Akashi saw something strange in Reo's muscles. Oh no. He mentally prayed, Reo, don't you dare. He sees it, but Reo wouldn't dare--

Reo, in spite of his captain's wishes, quickly snatched the letter from where Akashi put it down. Sparkling eyes widened as heterochromatic eyes glared--"That letter's from Furiha-sensei!" Reo squealed, his eyelashes fluttering, "So Furiha-sensei replied to you?! Looks like you guys are talking about pretty places and...OH. MY. GOD--"

"With all due respect, Reo, the conversation between me and Furiha-sensei is none of your business." The redhead hissed. He quickly retrieved his letter and glared at his meddlesome shooter, again, with a purposefully venomous tone and an even more threatening look to his heterochromatic eyes. This caused the silver-haired male to narrow his eyes, and the sempai was about to give his captain some lip but somebody sitting across the aisle from them did that before he even opened his mouth--

"Don't glare at your sempai like that, Seijuurou."

Akashi flipped his head back at the direction of the voice and hissed: "Remind me why you're on this train with me, father?"

At the sound of his son's voice, Masaomi looked up from the newspaper he had been perusing. Golden eyes glowed with reproach behind a red travel mug with the characteristic "A" embossed in gold, and the man didn't even both to move from his previous position as he replied, tone very blank in contrast to his son's rage: "I simply had something to do in Tokyo as well, Seijuurou."

"Please forgive me for my bluntness, father, but I conjecture that you embarked on this trip with me and my peers solely to bathe yourself in my embarrassment and take perverse pleasure in my suffering."

"What a preposterous notion. With all due respect for your capabilities and accomplishments, Seijuurou, not everything in this world revolves around you. This world is heliocentric, not Akashi Seijuurou-centric as far as my 18 years of schooling goes."

Chihiro, as well as a ruffled Kotarou who had sat behind Akashi up until this point, broke into a wave of "Ooh, burn!"s at Masaomi's statement. Their lips tightened into an "o" and their eyes narrowed in mock sympathy for the redhead--Kotarou even dared to wave his hands around obnoxiously as his body bounced up and down in the navy seat. Akashi turned to glare at both of them, but neither of them, Chihiro especially, took the threat seriously as the silver-haired man snickered. The third year winked his right eye and, ever-so-sarcastically, repeated: "Listen to your dad, Akashi. Don't glare at your sempai."

Akashi growled. He turned his head to his father. "This is all your fault." He hissed.

"Leadership is immanent within a team, Seijuurou, so if yours is so weak as to be threatened by a single sentence from me, then there's something wrong with the way you're running the team." His father replied, nonchalantly sipping some tea from his mug as he continued to look at the papers in his hand, " I even took the effort to sit across you guys to give you some privacy, though I wonder why you would say anything to each other that can't be heard by me."

"Father, please do not embarrass me any further."

"I have never done such thing."

"You lie."

"I do not lie, Seijuurou. Speaking of which, what is it about Furiha Kou-sensei?"

Akashi groaned.

\---

"Kouki, come out dear!"

Furihata's ears perked at the cheery sound of his mother's voice. The brunette boy lifted his head from a picture he had been working on for the Kyoto Yaoi Con--Well, technically he didn't have to work on anything for the convention, but he knew that the more merchandise the happier the fans and he genuinely loved them for supporting his works. Furihata couldn't understand how some famous people could take their fans for granted--even up to this day Furihata's heart squeezes with violent joy at every compliment from every fan--but he sure isn't one of them, and Furihata wanted to use this opportunity to communicate with his fans face to face and make a couple big bucks along the way.

Anyway, back to the present.

The brunette boy set down his pencils, got up from his chair, and walked to his mother's room. He chuckled as he swung open the door to his mother's room. "What is it, mom?" Kouki asked.

The smile on his face only grew as he cursively examined the woman's room: Everything was organized neatly into shelves with the exception of a book, which the boy took upon himself to slide into an empty spot. Sometimes he felt a little guilty about not helping her organize more, but the woman always said that it's fine since Megumi and Kokori always helped her.

The Room's definitely different from his--while his room went for a classier style with the dark-light contrast, his mother's cheeriness promptly seeped throughout her abode. The wall was painted a warm orange and all the furniture in there, from the closet to the desk to the little bedstead, went for a white and simplistic style. However, various colourful handcraft projects were littered on one side of her now-too-big-for-her bed and Kouki noted, with amusement, some half-complete colourful plushies that reminded him a tad too much of his muses lying haphazardly by the side of the bed.

The woman was currently sitting on the large bed that used to be shared with her husband, buried in a sea of green and white pillows. Her long black hair sprawled out comfortably around her floral pajamas, the woman lifted her head to grin at her son. "Hello, Kouki!" She greeted, beckoning him over with an eager wave of her hands, "Try this on--it's for the thing you have next week!"

"What is it--" Kouki looked at the object--a red knit hat--and smiled, "Aww, you didn't have to do that, Mom. I have plenty of hats."

His mother snorted: "'Plenty' is hardly the proper word here, Kouki. You only have three, one of which is too small and another of which is made by your baby sister and has a hole--here, figured you need a wardrobe change--" the woman reached for her son's head, and the son laughed too as the woman somewhat forcefully put his head through the hat.

"Hmm, you look nice." She remarked, nodding her head in satisfaction and pride. 

"Is it?" Kouki examined his reflection in a nearby mirror, "Huh." As he turned to face his mother again, he found himself, perhaps against his better judgment, looking at the plushies. The boy commented: "That's a lot of plushies, Mom. What are you going to with them?"

At the question, his mother beamed. "They're little backpack decorations!" she answered, grabbing a red one to hand to him, "Here, this one's for you."

Kouki looked at the figure. It's a--remarkably cute--plush lion. In comparison to the rest, it was a little smaller--though not as small as the pale blue puppy lying by the side. Like all the other plushies, it had buttons sewn on as eyes, and as Kouki turned the decoration around in his hand, he noticed that at one angle both eyes were red but at another the right glowed gold.

"Red is a nice color on you." She cheerily commented, rose-colored eyes glittering with joy. "You should totally get a red-haired girlfriend in the future, Kouki!"

\--And Kouki did a spittake.

"WHAT? MOM!"

"Or a red-haired boyfriend, if that's what you're into--"

"MOM! WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN WATCHING?"

His mom's cheeks puffed up in indignation. "Nothing I shouldn't be." She pouted, "Japanese TV is very liberal these days, ya know?"

\---

"Well, I'll leave to meet up with Koneko at Maji Burger's now." Furihata called, waving his mother goodbye in his much contested outfit for today--a black and white striped t-shirt with seemingly washed out jeans, a bright yellow bandana tied on his wrist (his mother wanted it to be on his neck, but Kouki would much prefer to not make the world think that he's a decrepit art student, thank you very much) and washed out white sneakers on his feet (he wanted to wear them, but his mother cried "it makes you look sloppy" but, well, it's his body)--as he swung his shoulder bag full of yaoi supplies and headed out the door.

Why, by yaoi supplies he meant pen, paper, and notebook of course. What were you thinking?

The boy, humming a tune he heard from somewhere, sailed down the street. He's actually early to him and Koneko's meeting, and not just by a couple minutes either--Furihata always left an hour free around meetings in case something came up, so that meant that he has quite a bit of freedom to do whatever he wanted. He usually just worked to kill the time productively, but maybe he'll walk a bit slower today since the weather's so nice--it is a bit dark and the streetlights have just lit, but hey, he can still see everything so nothing bad should happen.

Brown eyes wondered around the block until the neighborhood chihuahua, named "The Dog" for convenience, ran up to him and begged for treats, rubbing his remarkably clean body against the boy's pants. Furihata laughed, and reached inside his pocket for a half-wet piece of beef jerky to throw at the dog. 

As The Dog bopped away happily, Furihata continued to head towards his destination, sighing a little as he thought about the canine's unfortunate situation--he and the other kids built The Dog a cozy nest, but none of the parents were willing to adopt the animal. His father said that he's allergic to dogs which, as Kouki learned over time, was a lie, but at least his father had the heart to disguise his true intentions instead of just telling him, like some other parents did to their children, that The Dog's too dirty and too much work.

These other parents sound so horrible, don't they? It sounds like they lack the most basic empathy, that they just don't care--but if you actually lived in the same neighborhood with them, as Kouki did, you'd understand that... That they're not. They're actually caring towards their children and people close to them--truly unkind parents cannot produce kind children, after all--but it seemed that, at some point in their lives, these adults have lost the ability to care for people not directly related to them. 

This scares Furihata because--what if one day he becomes like them? What if He becomes someone who is incapable of feeling sympathy towards others, someone who kicks small animals out of their living spaces and--

Okay, stop that. Furihata takes a deep breath, breathing in the the familiar scent of cheap fries and mechanically cooked burgers as he walks through the doors of Maji Burger.

He turns right, circles around the orange and white tiles, and finds a non-greasy table (which was quite an amazing feat, actually--he ought to take a picture). Putting his stuff down, he habitually looks around his surroundings, and he grins because there's literally no one here. Well, it's not quite dinner time yet so that makes sense, but either way it means that he can draw two guys having sex without some overprotective parent calling the cops on him.

The boy threw his stuff down onto one of the red seats and seated himself next to it. He took out the 1st draft of his manga and a few pencils as well as his notebook. Before he commenced himself to drawing, Furihata flipped open his notebook to the portion dedicated to the story.

Furiha Kou is well-known in the industry for being a very fast as well as proof-free artist, and this notebook is the exact reason why. He gives a section of his notebook to each story, and each section consists of about 10-20 pages--yes, it's big, and you'll know why in a second--the first page would be a general recording of everything he wants in this story, contents ranging from "theme: environmentalism" to "Izuki=Azuki" or even "Moritaka's socks is blue". This page would be kind of messy, but after connecting some things together you get a concrete plot, which gets more detailed as you move onto the characterizations of the characters. The next couple of pages is dedicated to fleshing out the characters which may or may not cause the plot to shift, and only after everything is done and modified to his liking does he create the storyboard, which he changes and rearranged until it's to his logical liking.

Furihata's pretty sure that he's not the only one that does this, but he, for some reason, is remarkably fast at it. By the end of the day of his hearing the news, he has already came up with a pretty complete plot of his new series. Cheeks puffed in satisfaction, he glanced over the title of the story:

"The Moon and the Forest"

Yes, he decided to go with the mystical approach because he felt like not doing rom-coms for a change.

Moritaka Yoshiyama had been a man that lived the life of just about every other single businessman, working from 9-5 on weekdays and going out to pick up girls on the weekends--He should be happy about his life: he's really good at his job, and he's best friends with his boss, Kasakio Yukimatsu, and he owns a luxury apartment in the middle of the city, though he rarely has the chance to appreciate it. He should be happy, but he's not for some reason.

Moritaka feels so empty; he doesn't have anything he holds dear, and is only working for the sake of working and not feeling any satisfaction. This kind of thought takes a toll on his health, which his parents immediately noticed when they visited from the countryside. They incessantly urge him to take a break from work and even went so far as to call Kasakio, who actually agreed with the elders when Moritaka called to apologize.

Begrudgingly, the businessman leaves his Tokyo home to spend a month at his childhood home.

Initially, Moritaka just can't get used to the sudden change in scenery. Whereas he had been able theoretically hop on a subway and go anywhere, he had to trudge his way through a mile of forest to get to the flushless toilet here. On his first day there, he steps into fox feces and dirties his blue socks. Just as he was about to curse the damn forest, however, Moritaka catches sight of a small, but elegant (oh so elegant) eagle perched above a berch and falls to the ground when he realize that the eagle was staring at him. He feels utterly scrutinized beneath those oh-so-human eyes, though the emotion conveyed in them were less predatory than lament.

As he settles into bed that night, he recalls a story about the eagle guardian of the forest he had heard as a kid. The eagle sees all, and no evil, no good can escape from his gaze. Those who do good will be rewarded, and those who do bad will have inhumane, excruciating punishment condemned for eternity under the guardian's rule. Good men like father got fresh game for a week, and bad men like Ima Shou who murdered his father for his land was sent to Avici, the land of eternal torture, and never seen again.

Moritaka ceased to think about the strange eagle for the next few days, during which he basically helped his parents with housework and beheld the beautiful scenery he had missed in Tokyo. He pretty much stopped thinking about the eagle but, as luck would have it, Moritaka began to see the eagle curiously staring at him again one day, and, after three days of being ogled by the eagle, he decided to look for it. He tried to follow the eagle's direction, but he failed. However, Moritaka does nor give up. After two days of failure, Moritaka eventually spies the eagle's nest which, for some reason, looks more like a castle than a nest. He looks in it and finds a naked, beautiful young boy with two gorgeous wings perched on what looked like a throne.

The eagle-boy was surprised too, and asks him what his business is here. Stuttering, Moritaka explains that he was only curious about the eagle staring at him and didn't intend to stare at anyone. Contrary to his expectations, The eagle-boy laughs, flashing his wings, and remarks that Moritaka Yoshiyama really forgot about his home during his years at Tokyo. He formally introduces himself as Azuki.

Then Moritaka began to visit Azuki everyday, and the two do lots of fun things together. Moritaka meets some of Azuki's...co-workers, shall he say? Azuki's brother, Kazu the hawk, works as his sidekick and totally has a bit of a brother complex going on, though he's also totally obsessed with Shin the Tanuki. The creatures doubt Moritaka, but Azuki chides them, saying that it's okay. Soon enough, the creatures accept him and Moritaka realizes that Azuki's nothing like a god. He can be childish and makes utterly horrible and oddly inappropriate puns, yet he's strong willed and never fails to commit to his job when he needs to. On one meeting, Azuki takes Moritaka on one of his circumspections and, as he observes the judicial look in his eyes as he condemn sinners to hell, Moritaka falls in love. Yet, he dares not to tell.

Of course, Moritaka soon has to move back into the city and he offers to let Azuki come with him as a pet. Azuki refuses, saying that he had to protect the forest since it's his duty and tried to convince Moritaka to stay with him in the forest. Moritaka leaves anyway, feeling a bit guilty for leaving Azuki behind, but the guilt was overridden by anger at Azuki's elusive attitude about his reason for not wanting Moritaka to leave.

The story then cuts to Azuki's point of view. Turns out the two of them knew each other when Moritaka was a 15-year-old. They had spent time with each other every day back then, but then Moritaka went to high school in the city and these two lost contact with each other. Between the time of their reunion, Azuki had fell in love with another man who had came from the city, Aidatora Kage. They were deeply in love and had even went so far as to embrace each other, but Aidatora, like Moritaka, had went into the city and never came back.When he say Moritaka in the forest again, Azuki decided that he won't let him go this time.

As he falls into deep despair, Kazu catches him. Kazu starts off with a joking attitude, but becomes more serious as he realize that Azuki's genuinely hurt. The hawk tries to convince his brother to not fall in love with a human, reminding him of Kagetora. However, Azuki refuses to forget Moritaka, saying: "What makes us different from other, mindless beasts of animals are our ability to feel, our ability to make decisions, our ability to love. Thanks to Mori I...I finally feel the greatness that everyone says I have, and I-I don't want to go back to the days where I feel like nothing but a tool."

Kazu sighs, and concede: "If you're unwilling to give him up, do something about it."

Azuki did. Everyday since then, he would fly to the city to see Moritaka and fly back into the forest at morning. Moritaka soon finds out about this and, out of guilt and the desire to make Azuki happy, planned on going back to the forest. Happy, Azuki and Moritaka declare their love together and spends their evenings all cozy with modern technology.

Weeks pass by, and Azuki stopped coming. Moritaka didn't mind. Just as he was about to embark on his journey, however, one call with his parents revealed that the forest was going to be demolished.

He returns to the forest only to find that Azuki's nest had been demolished and turned into ground for a construction site. He looked up, and there stood Kazu and Shin, both looking like their worlds had been crushed. Kazu tells Moritaka that he'll move to another forest, and as for Azuki...he's no more. Moritaka demands to see him, and, reluctantly, Kazu concedes.

The story ends with Moritaka not being able to sob at his lover's corpse due to construction workers in his way.

Furihata bounced a little in happiness as he went over the plot again. True, he's only at the first book, but this is looking really good. Pencils sketching another one of the gorgeous mountain ranges, the mangaka smiled at all the scenery he gets to do.

\---

Koneko gasped as she looked over Furihata's storyboard. "Damn, Furi. It hasn't even been a week since I told you the news and you've already planned an entire manga", she exasperated, shaking her head in mild amazement, "I mean, I know you're fast but DAMN."

The boy gave a sheepish grin and cleaned his working area. "Well, you know, the inspiration just kinda hit me in history class."

Koneko nodded in understanding, her characteristic twin pigtails swinging with the motion of her head. "Kinda surprised you went with a mythical approach, though." She said, "You're really more of a romcom artist even though I think, personally, that your best works are those serious ones.

"Well, "Furihata awkwardly laughed, "I was having the same internal debate, but then decided to do something different."

"It's good that you did that. To be honest, I'm getting a little...ill of all the cuteness?"

"...Of course you would."

"No, I'm serious! You can be so heartbreakingly tragic and serious when you want to be, and it just kinda pisses me off that you're not going out of your comfort zone with the romcoms more often."

"Well the last time I tried to do a non-romcom I got death threats..."

The other settled her purple backpack on the seat across from the boy and, with an elegant spin, sat down in the seat. As she swung around her mango shake, Koneko sighed, her expression a little forlorn for whatever reason--this made Furihata's attention perk, and his eyes furrowed in worry. 

He asked concernedly: "what's the problem, Koneko-chan?" Koneko, noticing her friend's worry, laughed and, with a cursive fanning of her hands, tried to dispel whatever worry the other had. 

"Nothing." She replied, her smile lessening at her next thought, "Just thinking about how your fans were such bitches about the whole Lone Emperor business."

This made Furihata's face blush in simultaneous embarrassment and defensiveness. 

"Don't say that." He chided half-seriously.

"Seriously, do these girls care nothing for good plot and characterization?"

"Now, now..."

"Yaoi fans these days--they only care for pretty faces and not beautiful love stories..."

"Koneko, everyone likes pretty faces, plus Kouhata was a bit...Mary Sue-like there, you gotta admit"

The girl took a gulp of her shake. "Fine" She begrudgingly conceded, "but these guys could very well have just left the book alone and not be assholes about it"

"I mean, it was my fault for self-inserting and trying for such a challenging topic."

...Crap.

He had never told anyone that Kouhata was a self-insert.

"But I actually think the plot made sense. I mean, it's not very much Yaoi-based, but, objectively, even I can appreciate it as a good work of literature. The characters were very well flushed out and--wait, KOUHATA WAS A SELF-INSERT?" Koneko jumped, nearly knocking over her shake in her frenzied excitement, "So Seishi is--"

Luckily, the female stopped her next words with a clamp on her hand before she could declara Furihata's male crush to the entire restaurant. Nevertheless, the glow in her eyes still made Furihata want to regret ever coming to this meeting. "Shush!" The brunette hissed rapidly, face red as a tomato, "sit down! The entire restaurant is looking at you!". 

The girl, however, had no intention of lessening his embarrassment as she sat down. The second her bottom touched the red chair, the slim torso reached over to grab both of Furihata's shoulders. Green eyes locking dead into Chocolate eyes, Koneko smirked: "Seishi is based on your Rakuzan sweetheart, isn't it!"

"NO!"

The gleam in Koneko's eyes grew brighter. "You lyin'~ why you lyin~?" She hummed, the mix of a smirk and a squeal growing wider on her face as she retracted her hand. After dancing around in her seat a little, the girl jumped off of the red furniture and swung her right hand in front of her body, pointing at her friend in a Conan Edogawa Fashion: "Red hair with heterochromatic eyes--that could only mean one person!"

No no no no--

"Akashi Seijuurou!" Koneko beamed as she laid her final verdict upon the embarrassed male, but then she retracted her grin and stared at Furihata incredulously. "Akashi Seijuurou?" She grimaced, "the miracle whose dick is no longer than 2 centimeters at most?"

And Furihata spit his water all over the table. "WHAT?"

Koneko rolled her eyes. "That's what I said to my captain back in middle school when we went up against them," she said, "I mean, seriously, look at him. He's pale as paper, has a temper like a princess, he's SHORT--"

"Koneko, please"

"--and he has small hands."

"Koneko, stop it." Furihata buried his face in his hands.

As if Koneko knowing about Akashi isn't horrible enough, they're debating his penis size.

Koneko, seeing Furihata's embarrassment that's bordering on desire to kill himself, sighs and settles down in one of the seats. "To be honest with you, I don't really like that guy, given how little I had seen of him." She admits, resuming her sipping on the neglected Mango shake, "but I've never been into the emperor type, plus who you love is no business of mine."

"Thanks." Furihata laughed dejectedly, "It's not like he'll accept me anyway...this crush will probably die..."

A bang on the table. "What is that loser talk?!" Koneko scolded, "you're a hardworking, gentle boy who's not hard on the eyes either. You ain't bad at all--in fact, anyone who would turn you down is either an idiot or strange-as-fuck. Don't turn yourself down without even talking to him."

"B-but..."

"Have more faith in yourself. How is anyone supposed to love you when you can't even love yourself?"

"Excuse me." A calm, foreign voice called from the side. Koneko and Furihata turned their heads over and, unexpectantly, came face-to-face with none other than Kuroko Tetsuya. Furihata, having gotten somewhat used to his teammate's disappearing and reappearing acts, only flinched but Koneko jumped right out of her seat.

"How long have you been here?" She pointed accusingly.

Kuroko blinked. "We just arrived." He replied, eyes twitching just a little bit at who the hell this girl is, "We're going to have...something of a middle school reunion here soon, and I saw Furihata-kun here so I decided to say hi before we go over there."

"Yo Furi!" Kagami's head popped out behind Kuroko's, "Fancy meeting you here!"

Furihata smiled at Kagami's excitement: "What are you doing here for Kuroko's middle school reunion?", he asked, a bit confused, "I mean, you probably won't know anyone there--"

He didn't expect Kagami to roll his eyes midway through his question. The redhead snorted: "That redhaired bastard wanted a GoM meeting with their best friends and," he scratch his hair a little bit, "so I'm here with Kuroko."

Koneko squinted in confusion: "But you have red hair t--“.

Her words, however, were interrupted by a greater presence in the room. There stood Akashi Seijuurou himself, donning the grey shirt and tie of the Rakuzan school uniform. However, something about him made the garment appear almost erotic in it's propriety: The dark colors contrasted sharply with his pale skin and red (or is it magenta? Furihata couldn't tell with his heart beeping like it's having a heart attack) hair, and ever-so-obviously highlighted his handsome features as he tilted his head to give Kagami a calm smile.

"I didn't call this meeting, Taiga--Shintarou did, so please blame him for you annoyance." He remarked, but Furihata couldn't give a damn about a thing those soft-looking lips said because Akashi. Seijuurou. Is. Actually. Moving. Toward. Furihata. Right. Now.

Koneko's eyes glowed, and she gave him a thumbs up, ever-so-obviously squealing, but Furihata can't pay attention to her, oh no, not while Akashi's right in front of him, gorgeous and...oh my god he smelled so good.

"Furihata...Kouki, is it?" Akashi Seijuurou asked, lips curving in a way-too-attractive way as those heterochromatic eyes roamed over Furihata's face. 

Please, please not let my face look like a tomato, Furihata prayed. Not trusting himself to speak, the boy could only nod as Akashi lifted his head up a little, and then--god--smiled even more. Please don't smile like that towards me again, Furihata mentally pleaded, it's only going to make me a bigger mess than I already am.

"I see." He commented, leading against a wall with pale, strong forearms exposed and bare for Furihata to drool over, "Would you like to join us in our meeting?" a smooth, velvety voice asked, "That is...if you're not preoccupied with this young lady over here--"

"Oh no!" Koneko got up, grinning a half-scared, half fangirlish smile as she dashed out the door. "We were only cha-chatting!" She waved her hands and winked at the mesmerized chihuahua, "Have fun!"

And there goes his only solace. 

Akashi raised an eyebrow, but didn't say more. "Well, I'll take it that you can join us?"

Furihata nodded.

"That's wonderful." He gave another one of those dazzling smiles, "Come on, then--you can sit right by me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...how was it? To be honest, this story's really slow, and isn't going to feature a lot of AkaFuri face to face moments, but there will be lots of letters and lots of fangirling on Furihata's side! Oh, and by the way I have a tumblr now: nanaofthehighbridges.tumblr.com and if you are so inclined, please check it out ^L^ I haven't put all of this fic on there yet but I'm working on it...but everything else is on there!
> 
> Thank you for reading my humble fanfiction, and if you have any criticisms, suggestions, or comments please do not be afraid to leave a review!


	14. Oh no!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating in so long T_T class is hell, and...for some reason this was actually really hard to write. But Furihata and Akashi meet, with the addition of some other dorks-this would have been shorter, but I wanted to flush them out a little too. Thanks for reading up until now, and...enjoy!

"Kagami-kun, you're eating too much. You'll bloat."

"You're the one that needs to eat more! Literally, you're thin as a brick!"

"Bricks are not thin, Kagami-kun. The proper expression is 'thick like a brick', and you are better suited to it than I am."

"W-what?! I-I'm going to enjoy my fine meal without you, Kuroko, and you're not going to get a burger this time!"

"I wasn't planning on eating here, but since you offered-"

"Oi, start bringing your own money! You're gonna make me bankrupt!"

"If there's one person that's going to bankrupt you, it's you yourself."

Kagami Taiga, Kuroko Tetsuya, Akashi Seijuurou, and Furihata Kouki were sitting around a table, the infamous light-shadow duo bickering noisily on one side while the remaining two spectated awkwardly on the other. The lightbulbs shone innocently above the room, and the atmosphere below them contrasted in an almost comical fashion: on one side, there were flowers blooming and rainbows shining and eyebrows rising and falling, flying about in the restaurant like unicorns; and then you have these two dorks-I mean boys-trying ever-so-desperately to start conversation with each other but ever-so-unfortunately failing.

Well, you can't blame them; Akashi knew absolutely nothing about the brunette and, in addition to this being true in reverse, Furihata looked like he was going to leave the earth any moment.

Even though the he's the only one that's from a different school here, Akashi Seijuurou didn't really feel left out in this situation, not with these two lovebirds (Yes. Lovebirds. These two can't keep their hands off of each other, no wonder Furiha-sensei felt the necessity to make them a pair) ignoring the existence of everyone else in the room. The shorter redhead briefly turned his head away from the heated duo to look pitifully at the scared, nervous brunette next to him, feeling a little sorry for this guy because his sweat looked like it could drown a horse and being that stressed couldn't possibly be good for you.

The shorter redhead sighed as Furihata, for the fifth time in ten minutes, snuck a peek at him only to shrink back the second the he looked his way. Seriously, Kuroko and Kagami went to the same school with him, not Akashi-shouldn't one of them at least try to help Furihata and, you know, make him look less of a strangled squirrel in front of Akashi? To be honest, it's kind of funny looking at this guy trying so hard (and failing) to not betray the crush he had on him, but something about those large, canine-like eyes quivering in nervousness made Akashi feel genuinely guilty for not alleviating his pain. Honestly, the more Akashi looked at this guy the more the he wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and beat anyone that dared to hurt him senseless-Furihata Kouki just seemed to inspire that in people, though seemingly not in Kagami and Kuroko over there.

Speaking of which-Akashi's eyes accidentally met the Brunette's chocolate ones, causing the other to jump back-what's this guy's full name again?

Furiha-ta Kou-ki.

...Huh.

Before he could dwell more on that matter, though, a loud bang of the door pierced his eardrums and sent vibrations through the walls behind him. A whine followed a harsh yell of "watch it", and Akashi already guessed the identity of the newly arrived guest as well as that of the slightly annoyed voice behind him even before the mop of yellow popped up in front of him. "Hello Ryouta, Kasamatsu." He greeted.

Ryouta's eyes sparkled while his current captain gave a curt nod. Akashi can't help but smile as the blond jumped to cling to his ex-captain's jacket like a golden retriever, "Hi Akashichii!" he beamed as he tightened his embrace around Akashi's torso "I haven't seen you in shuuuuuch a loooong time!" Ryouta rubbed his face against his chest, "How were you?"

"Lovely, Ryouta." It was nice, seeing Ryouta after such a long time and knowing that he's still his old cheerful self-though Akashi started to doubt that persona after reading Furiha Kou's "My Manager can't be This Cute"-but he appears to be truly happy and well-fitted in his new environment, "You seem well."

Ryouta nodded eagerly, and would have said something, but the his happiness was curtailed by a sharp pull of his collar.

The blond looked up tearfully to find none other than Kasamatsu Yukio. "Don't make a scene here." The elder hissed, "and stop latching onto your former captain like that."

Ryouta pouted against his skin and Akashi raised an eyebrow. He chuckled: "Jealous, aren't we, Kasamatsu?".

At the blush that emerged on the older male's cheeks, Akashi further snorted and patted the blond to let Ryouta, albeit unwillingly, let go of his neck to go lap at his current captain instead. "Don't worry, Ryouta's all yours now." he commented, "it can be hard to let go of him sometimes, I know-"

And that, somehow, got on Kasamatsu's nerves. "You insolent brat!" He yelled, and it was now Kasamatsu, with a blush and a scream, jumping onto him and shaking him around, "One, it's Kasamatsu-san for you, you spoiled freshman! Just because your sempais don't discipline you enough doesn't mean that you get to disrespect me and talk down to me like that and Two, I-I-I-I'm not jealous of you for having Kise's attention, not at all, you brat!"

Akashi rolled his eyes as Kasamatsu briefly paused to let the flush spread across his face. God, another pair of lovebirds.

The senior then tried to make the short redhead rethink his actions (which, for your information, nothing would). And this, unfortunately, involved a combination of screams and violent shaking of his body. While his head was being swung all around, Akashi briefly considered throwing the male onto the ground and teaching him a lesson right there, but quickly realized that that would make Ryouta upset and, despite what many think, he had a soft spot for all of his ex-teammates.

This, however, led to the redhead almost falling off of his chair. As he fell he, in an act more of natural instinct that actual situational analysis, grabbed and latched onto the person nearest to him, which happened to be Furihata.

Which, in turn, made him pull the brunette into his chest as he fell.

The next thing he knew, two people were on the floor, the brunette's head pressed against his chest and the heat on the other's face slightly permeating through the thin fabric of his shirt. Legs were a tangled mess, and though Furihata looked like he could die any moment he didn't pull away.

The place grew silent.

Furihata had somehow gotten himself into this situation. Don't ask him how-one second he was happily not fainting in front of Akashi and the next he was lying in his chest. The only word he wanted to say as he laid on top of the other man's chest was: "Help."

That's all he can say, with his ears humming, his heart beating faster than a hummingbird's wings, his face threatening to burst open in embarrassment-

Help.

Please, someone take this way-too-gorgeous man away from him before he nosebleeds onto the redhead's pristine pecs, even though-oh my god-his chest is so firm and warm, like, it must be amazing to cuddle into it on the morning after and to feel it pressing against his back during-

Oh my god Furi, what are you thinking.

Furihata squeaked. The embarrassed cough that he subsequently let out probably didn't help his case here as everyone, including the previously lovey-dovey Kagami and Kuroko, turned to look at him with an odd look. Kagami's expression turned horrified, Kise was dropping his jaw in awe, and Akashi Seijuurou was raising one eyebrow in what seemed to be amusement and...was he smirking?

Clumsily (and a little reluctantly) scrambling off of Akashi Seijuurou's torso, Furihata made a point of not looking into anyone's eyes as he climbed back into his chair. He awkwardly coughed-as if that will help anything-and seriously contemplated the option of dashing into the bathroom before his self-righteous left hand just had to help the redhead up.

Furihata internally screamed as Akashi pulled on his digits and, subsequently, resumed his place next to the blushing brunette.

Silence permeated their table and eventually spread throughout the restaurant; everyone turned to stare curiously at them. Kasamatsu, finally letting go of the redhead, guiltily slid into the spot next to Furihata while he giggled in just about the most unnatural way possible. Thankfully, in spite of how unnatural it was, people got the message and were merciful enough to let him live. Even though the air remained awkward, everyone began to fill the previously silent restaurant with noise. Kagami's eyebrows furrowed, and he was about to say something to Akashi but Kuroko pulled on his arm and dragged him into another conversation; Kise slid next to Kasamatsu, two seats away from Furihata.

"Hey, sorry about that." Kasamatsu said apologetically. Furihata shook his head, and managed to squeak out a "no worries" before Kise interrupted them:

"Who are you?" the blond asked, almond shaped eyes blinking in confusion, "I don't think I remember you..."

"O-oh" he laughed breathlessly; of course he wouldn't remember, "I-I'm F-Furihata Kouki, and I'm Kuroko's teammate. I-I-I'm a point guard, but I u-usually stay on the bench so you probably d-don't know me-"

"Ah." Kise smiled, head casually leaning his boyfriend's (yeah, definitely boyfriend-you don't just touch and talk to a "friend' that way) right shoulder as a sneaky little hand rubbed against Kasamatsu's thigh, "You played against Kasamatsu-sempai once, right? Nice to meet you, Furihata."

As soon as Kise mentioned his name again, Kasamatsu's head snapped up to stare at Furihata. His mouth opened and closed, seemingly remembering something but not quite there while the blond male proceeded to wrap his arms around the older male, his remarkably beautiful face spreading into an expression of almost bearish contentedness. (Say, why was Kise considered the attractive one in GoM? Akashi was obviously the more gorgeous one-Kise was cute, but Akashi's just...)

When Kise did that, Furihata almost had a heart attack-Kise didn't rush to Kuroko this time and call him "Kurokocchi"! What could have sparked this change in his characteristic behaviour? Well, the most obvious reason would be him not seeing Kuroko, but why this time? It wasn't like Kuroko became invisible overnight-that didn't stop Kise from acting like a hyperactive fanboy around him before!

So, a better reason would be that...Kise has someone that he focuses on more! Furihata almost squealed as Kasamatsu patted Kise's head, which further proved his point that Kise loves Kasa-

"You're number 12, right?"

Furihata blinked. "A-Ah yes." He responded, "I c-can't believe that y-you remembered me-"

"Nonsense." The other smiled, and Furihata almost smiled with him-Kasamatsu was a gentle man in his own right-as he affirmed, "You are a very talented player, and I think that you have a lot of potential."

"R-Really?!"

"Yeah. You are calm and coordinating; important PG qualities that not everyone have. Just because this guy" he rolled his eyes in Akashi's direction, "has special eyes and other stuff doesn't mean you are necessarily less talented." At the elder's words, the redhead arched an eyebrow, but eventually turned back to talk with Kuroko.

Furihata sweatdropped. He stuttered: "Y-you praise me too much."

Kasamatsu scoffed: "Do I look like the type to flatter people for no reason? No. After our game I was genuinely impressed, and..." he paused, "was a little sad that you got so humiliated by that guy. But you won't give up on basketball, right?"

"Of course not!"

"Good. I look forward to your next game. Don't let the rainbow coloured guys wear on your confidence."

Furihata felt elated; S-sempai noticed him! Not a sempai he was expecting to get noticed by, but hey, Furihata liked Kasamatsu.

As he formatted a reply to the praise in his head, the door banged loudly again and signaled the entrance of another-or actually, more like another two-people. Furihata, as well as everyone around him, simultaneously turned their heads towards the two newcomers. Of course, there stood none other than Murasakibara and Himuro.

Furihata squealed at Himuro's characteristic smile and Murasakibara's characteristic pout: Oh. My. God. Look at them! Himuro totally should be a kindergarten teacher-just look how he takes care of everyone around him, from Kagami to Murasakibara! He would be a wonderful mother too, and just imagine Murasakibara being the daddy to his child as well as all the kids in the kindergarten. He would be a perfect papa bear!

...And are they wearing matching outfits? It looks soooo good on both of them-the pinkish purple just makes Murasakibara look more like a gentle giant and Himuro more of a caring big brother! It just suits them both so perfectly and make them look more like husband and wife than they already do-And yes, Furihata's aware that that's just what the Yosen uniform looked like, but his point still stands.

The purple giant purred upon seeing his former captain. "Aka-chin" he mumbled as he moved towards Akashi. As a form of acknowledgment to his ex-teammate, the shorter tilted his head back against the chair and the giant rested his head on the shorter's, purple eyes drooped. His ears, apparently, decided to ignore the slightly embarrassed call of "Atsushi" from his wife as he proceeded to frown. "Why are we here?" he whined.

Akashi curves his lips softly, and replied: "Shintarou has some business here.".

Furihata couldn't give a damn about why they're here, though, because IS MURASAKIBARA IGNORING HIS WIFE? Kuroko did mention something about Murasakibara feeling guilty about turning Akashi into his other persona and being one of the closest to Akashi, but that's no reason to ignore his wife...Himuro's eyes are furrowing, damn it! You go "Muro-chin" him better, now! He continued to mentally rant, not-so-happily indulging in his world when Akashi knocked him out of it with what seemed to be a protective arm over him. "Stop that, Atsushi." the redhead hissed, voice sharp but his expression sharper, "I won't stand for it."

"Ehh-but Aka-chin."

"Stop it, I won't stand for you insulting someone next to me."

Someone next to him-does he mean me? Furihata's face went red again. He missed everything-Did Murasakibara insult him? Well, he would have expected that since he is, you know, the least qualified to be here and Murasakibara's not really known for holding back, both in speech and in basketball... But, my goodness. Akashi Seijuurou is...getting mad at Murasakibara over him? God-the brunette buried his face in his hands-

T-this is q-q-quite the honour.

The purple titan, clearly ignoring the blushing chihuahua beside his former captain, pouted: "But you know that chihuahua-chin shouldn't-"

"Have. You. Not. Heard. Me?" Akashi admonished pointedly, "Don't insult him again."

Before Murasakibara could open his mouth again, Himuro had already dragged the giant up by his collar and successfully cut off his words. "I'm sorry" The male barely managed his embarrassment, " for my teammate's indiscretion, uh..."

("Furihata Kouki." Furihata answered.)

"Yes, I apologize for Atsushi's words, Furihata-kun." The taller male nodded in awkward politeness. As he dragged the male away, heatedly whispering something in the giant's ears, the purple-haired man whined, mumbling something about both Aka-chin and Muro-chin being mean to him. Looking into Murasakibara's downridden eyes, Furihata felt sorry for him; he probably just said what was on his mind and it wasn't like he was completely wrong-Furihata shouldn't be here and wouldn't be here if Akashi didn't invite him.

Everybody else probably thought the same, and Murasakibara was just, well, the least polite about it so far.

Akashi, though, didn't agree with Furihata. "Thank you, Himuro. Atsushi can be quite the baggage to handle, what with his disregard for others at times." he said.

And Furihata winced a little at the hurt look those words sent through Murasakibara's eyes. That's harsh, he thought. Himuro's eyes glowed a strange light at those words, but heterochromatic eyes already turned to glare at the giant before the elder could say anything.

"Apologize to Furihata right now." he commanded.

"Sorry Chihuahua-chin..."

"His name is Furihata."

"I'm sorry, Furihata-chin."

I didn't even hear what you said, Furihata wanted to say; but he couldn't put Akashi in an awkward position, so he replied a quick: "Don't worry about it, Murasa-mu-murasaki-" stumbling a bit over the way-too-complicated-to-be-Japanese name before the redhead rushed and saved him from any further embarrassment.

"Murasakibara." He corrected, hand ever-so-gently touching Furihata's shoulder. The brunette shivered as shivers ran down his spine, and the redhead's pale lips curled. They looked into each other's eyes before he continued: "It can be quite the mouthful to say, I know."

And Furihata just nodded, not able to say anything more because-tell him if he's going insane, but the previously ferocious gaze had softened to an almost doting look and, beneath that gaze, he almost, no, felt like a beloved pet that's being adorned and spoiled by his owner. He felt like the most perfect and precious thing, like he would be protected and treasured by his master as long as he was alive; those eyes were so warm, so soft, and Furihata wanted to drown himself in them.

All the brunette can do was let his soul evaporate away from his body like a puddle of water in a blazing desert.

"Oi, Akashi! Don't bully Furi!" Kagami yelled from across the table, and Akashi glared at the imprudent man before turning back to the Brunette.

"I'm not bullying him, Taiga." He said, "Furihata?"

Furihata Kouki. exe has stopped functioning due to Drive Overheat.

"You're obviously bullying him! Look at him-he's scared out of his mind! Furi!"

"Stop making assumptions about me. I do like Furihata, and have no intention of scaring him."

"Ha?! You like him? How the hell-"

Furihata was still staring blankly into space.

"You usually scare people when you don't intend to, Akashi-kun"

"With all due respect, Tetsuya, this is not your place to talk."

"Any place is a good place for me to talk, Akashi-kun."

Before World War III managed to break out between Akashi and Kuroko in a small Maji Burger's, the brunette shook his head back into his skull and managed to reply: "A-ah, yes, t-t-thank you..."

Kagami sighed and stretched out a hand to pat Furihata on the head, chiding worriedly: "Are you not feeling well? You blanked out for a while there-Were you working yourself too hard yesterday? Or" he glared at Akashi, "is this redhaired bastard bullying you?"

"A-ah, no..." Furihata laughed, "I'm fine...". His words trailed off at the end, but Kuroko interrupted him to comment, with his usual snark: "Kagami-kun, I find the way you insult Akashi-kun quite amusing. As far as I know, you are a red-haired bastard as well."

"W-what? I'm not a bastard!"

"I am not a bastard either, Taiga." Akashi said, and Kagami tsked, preparing to say something in rebuke of that last statement. But the shorter turned towards Furihata and shut him off like a light switch.

Furihata internally gasped: There's that warm gaze again, and Akashi would have continued with something more, perhaps a question to initiate a conversation with the brunette-

But then a large bang came from the door and, once again, everyone turned toward the newcomer even though the combination of a squeaky feminine voice, a low growl, and a seemingly endless string of apologies already gave the identities of the newcomers away.

"Geez, Dai-chan! You're late again!" Momoi reprimanded, cheeks puffy in anger. Rolling his eyes, Aomine answered her with an ambiguous sounding groan while the shorter boy sprung onto another bout of "I'm sorry"s, causing the pink-haired female to roll her eyes as well and complain about too much work. Before Akashi could say anything to them, though, Aomine already jumped on his last sentence:

"Whoa, what is this I'm hearing?" The tanned male grinned, "Whose a bastard? "

And the redheads simultaneously groaned. (Furihata snickered-that's not something you see everyday). Kagami screamed something about "Ahomine" and Akashi, promptly ignoring his fellow redhead as if he were another lightbulb in the room, turned to inform of the newcomer, just barely withholding his annoyance: "no, Daiki, I am not. Please do refrain from making precarious judgements upon another's character when you have been absent for much of the context."

"Talk human, Akashi."

"This is human talk, Daiki, your comprehension ability is simply more resemblant to that of a porcine."

"..." and with that Aomine's previously smug face twisted with an indescribable emotion. Furihata audibly heard Akashi snicker (and might have done the same) as the taller male stepped back and narrowed his eyebrows, probably trying his hardest to decipher whether that was an insult or not. Eventually and probably wisely, Aomine gave up on bickering with Akashi. See, who said that Aomine was stupid? He was just stupid in school, that's all.

But Aomine Daiki couldn't just shut up and sit down, oh no, because the only person who can tell him what to do is himself and that person wasn't a particularly thoughtful fellow-The blue-haired just had to make the other redhead his target this time. "Yo, Bakagami!" He greeted with faux cheer and ominous excitement, "How ya treating my shoes?"

"O-of course I'm treating them nicely!" Kagami is...blushing? "How did you expect me to treat them?"

Aomine leaned over, casually rested his elbow on Kuroko's head (as if he's invisible-ha!), and came face to face with the tiger. He laughed in this oddly flirtacious way that made Furihata frown in disapproval, and the tanned individual proceeded to run his fingers through Kagami's hair as his voice bounced naughtily: "Well, ya know, ya feet smells~"

"H-how would you know, Ahomine! You've never smelled my feet!"

"Hmm." Aomine hummed, "Or did I? I smelled your house, and it smelled like you-all stinky."

"H-hey!"

"But your food smelled good."

What are you two doing?! Furihata wanted to scream.

Especially you, Kagami! You belong with Kuroko! Did you forget that vow you made on a dark and lonely night some weeks ago? Did you forget that you will be his light and he will, in return, be your shadow? Do you not remember the boy who stood behind you, watched with a tender smile as you rose into who you are today? Do you not remember his gentle laughter, his sad tears, his blazing sweat trickling down his pale and slender back as he trained with you and watched as you became the fearless, romping tiger that threatened even the Kiseki no Sedai?!

Furihata had to discreetly wipe a tear from his right eye as his mind, however painfully, tried to accept the reality-H-has Kagami decided to move on from Kuroko?! Has he decided that Kuroko's no longer...good enough for him, and that...Aomine is better for him? Well, it's not untrue. Aomine and Kagami are so much more similar, and can understand each other in a way that Kuroko can't with Kagami and couldn't with Aomine. After all, Kuroko and Aomine had a history that had been just as beautiful as Kuroko and Kagami's and look how t-that... God, he can't even finish it.

Throughout his life, Aomine had asked for someone to understand him and, try as he may, Kuroko couldn't do so...will this be the case with Kagami as well?

"Aomine-kun, please refrain from teasing Kagami-kun so much." Kuroko said blankly.

Aomine pouted. "Ehh, but he's so fun to tease...

"W-who's fun to tease, Ahomine!"

"Bakagami~"

"You!"

"Yes he is." Kuroko answered, face ever-so-expressionless, "But so are you."

YES, KUROKO! DEFEND YOUR BOTTOM! Of course Kuroko's not going to let his adorable tiger go just like that! He's going to smack that tanned ass away from his boyfr-WAIT? What did he just hear? Did Kuroko just insinuate that Aomine was just as cute as the Seirin tiger? (He was so seme, though, Furihata thought, blushing a little at Kuroko's manliness-he was like "You two are both my cute bitches" and AHHH SO MANLY FURIHATA'S GONNA SWOON-but back to the present.) That sentence totally suggested that Kuroko still thinks of Aomine as cute and that he still has an interest in him even though he has an interest in Kagami who obviously is in love with Kuroko so-

...a threesome thingy?

Furihata pouted. He doesn't work well with threesome thingys. I mean, he gets the concept of three people all loving each other, but, like, he can't get how it works? Like, so all three people just roll up into a ball to cuddle, and is every sex session a threesome or do they take turns or...?

On the other hand, Himuro somehow managed to poke his head out from under Murasakibara's tyrannical hug, and pretty black widened a little at a the presence of a certain someone. "Hey, you're Sakurai Ryou, right?" He asked, blinking , "Those were some really cool triple-pointers you made at interhigh!"

Sakurai's eyes widened, too, at the elder's compliment. "Y-you remembered me?" the younger male stuttered, a suspicious blush climbing onto his cheeks before, rapidly shaking his head, he replied. "N-n-n-no! You were the cool one! T-t-the way you kept Murasakibara in check like that-Aomine doesn't like me nearly half as much..."

"Oh, that's not impressive. Atsushi's a giant sweetheart." Himuro laughed, making the purple giant lying on top of him giggle as well, "I've heard not-so-pleasant things about Aomine, though...good luck."

"Hey! Aomine yelled.

Kise admonished: "It's true! The only one who is more horrible than you is you yourself!"

Everyone (aside from Aomine) burst into laughter. After a good 5 minutes passed, Himuro straightened his back and said: "If only we could control Aomine the way Kasamatsu controls Kise..."

"Oh, Kise's just a large lapdog." With a careless pull of his hand, Kasamatsu dragged the unknowing blond over to ruffle his hair, "He's actually pretty sweet. It took a little bit of time to discipline him at first, but he's a really good Kouhai that really gives attention and love to his team."

Especially you, Furihata mentally added.

Head pressed against his captain's chest, Kise bashfully blushed, and those honey-coloured eyes sparkled and, blinking rapidly, threatened to burst into tears. "Is that what you think about me, Sempai?" The blond inquired of his captain, voice remarkably meeker than Furihata had associated with him. The brunette squealed as the captain nodded and rubbed his head once more jumped up to wrap his arms around him. "I-I'm so honoured!" He cried, burying his head in the junction of Kasamatsu's shoulder and neck while his arms threatened to thoracically strangle the older male.

"Oi, Kise, don't do that here!"

Ooh, does he do that somewhere else?

"Why not sempai? I know you like being hugged from behind!"

...How did he know that, Kasamatsu? Furihata, as always, had an idea about how-just imagine these two lovebirds hanging out in Kasamatsu or Kise's house for a so-called "study session"and while Kasamatsu, like the good sempai that he is, poured over the books to tutor his kouhai, said kouhai envelops him in a gentle embrace from behind and lands a gentle kiss on his neck (Furihata would bet that Kasamatsu has a sensitive neck) He would blush and half-angrily protest, tilting his head back to talk at him, and Kise would laugh, or...or give him another kiss which would cause Kasamatsu to protest more and lead to a positive cycle of kisses and more kisses! But, wait, that would be assuming that Kasamatsu is the bottom here which, let's be honest here, there's good reason to-but what if he isn't? What if Kasamatsu's the kind of man who's conservative on the outside and badass in the bedroom? Kise would be all fun and sunshine but then in the bedroom...ooh la la~Kise would be the cute puppy that always begs for his owner's attention, hugging his older boyfriend from behind and grinding his jaw against the other's neck until the other gives in and-

Furihata was quite the character; one second he's blushing and stuttering, the next he's grinning obliviously like a kid in a candy store. Akashi really shouldn't be so amused by his actions-after all, Furihata was hardly the most eyecatching one here-but this drastic difference in behaviour just makes him want to smile. He poked the brunette's shoulder: "Furihata, are you okay?" he asked.

The boy quickly turned his head to look at the person who caught him right in the middle of his daydream, and Akashi snickered as the brunette's expression as he realized that he was face to face with none other than Akashi Seijuurou. "u-uh, yeah." He answered, chuckling awkwardly.

Large chocolate eyes blinked nervously, and Akashi just has to wonder what the hell he had been daydreaming about-but nevertheless the redhead lifted the edges of his lips to grace Furihata with a small smile. "I'm glad." he simply said. If he doesn't want to tell, Akashi won't ask.

Furihata stuttered "A-a-ah, it is m-m-me who should be glad, a-after all I g-g-get to s-s-sit here next to you-"

His words trailed off as they neared the end, but Akashi interrupted his rambling even before it got the chance to do that; the redhead was bent over in laughter, the laugh ringing in the air as his entire body vibrated ever-o-slightly against Furihata's. That caused the brunette to freeze over in fear, brown eyes nervously staring at the man in front of him as his mind, probably, tried to recall everything he did here, searching for something, anything, worthy of ridicule. He was probably asking these questions in his head: "Is it my expression as I fell into his chest?" "Is it the expression I'm wearing right now?" "Is it the food that reeked off of me?"

And Akashi just had to make his life a bit easier: "Has anyone ever told you that you get nervous really easily?"

Furihata stopped his frantic self-blaming, and blinked.

The remnants of a giggle still rumbling through his frame, Akashi Seijuurou sat back upright and turned his body towards the brunette, body tilting a little to the right and resting on the back of the chair. "You get nervous really easily." He can't help but smile, "What are you so nervous about? I'm not going to hurt you; I don't bite."

"I-I-I never insinuated that you do..."

"Then don't look so scared." Akashi said, "I do feel guilty when you look like you want to run away from me."

Furihata nodded, and Akashi, satisfied at the affirmative gesture from the other, turned back. But then something made him quickly turn his head back again. "Say, our first meeting was really horrible, wasn't it?" He asked.

Well, it could have gone better-but I don't mind, really, since I got to see you, Furihata thought, but nodded anyway out of...some reason. As Akashi's eyebrows turned a little down, though, the Brunette suddenly felt a queasy feeling rise in his stomach. "No no no!" He quickly replied, hopefully correcting his previous actions and repeating his words perhaps a bit more than necessary, "I'm really really really sure that you were just in a bad mood that day so-"

"Don't worry, I get it." the redhead said, "Thanks."

Furihata stopped-this might sound trite, but...he wasn't aware that someone could smile that way that Akashi Seijuurou did. As the redhead did that, the boy sunk back into his chair, his previous guilt replaced with a strange kind of glee as chocolate eyes, daringly, chased warm heterochromatic ones. For a brief moment, he could almost believe that Akashi was just like him, that he could somehow protect this man and give him happiness that he wouldn't otherwise be able to find.

Almost.

The redhead, as if sensing his strange eagerness, looked back and, right there in the middle of this busy restaurant, amidst this rambunctious crowd, Furihata could almost swear that there was a moment in which their souls connected. Those hauntingly gorgeous eyes, to Furihata's ever-growing embarrassment, refusing to leave the his face, Akashi continued: "I hope I haven't left an indelibly negative impression upon you, Furihata, for I really do try my most earnest to repair my past mistakes."

"Oh no," Furihata nervously giggled, scratching the back of his head: I've seen worse, haha."

And Akashi raises an eyebrow. "Forgive me, but I do find that just a tad difficult to believe." he said.

"When I first met Kuroko it involved him accidentally bumping me down the stairs..."

"Whoa!" Kagami popped his head up and turned his head towards Kuroko, "is that true?"

WAIT WAS KAGAMI EAVESDROPPING ON AKASHI AND FURIHATA'S CONVERSATION? Furihata wanted to scream: please, please tell him that Kagami didn't hear that conversation-

"Yes. But I didn't push Furihata-kun, just so you know." Kuroko replied, blank eyes glaring at Furihata with a little bit of distaste, "I was walking down the stairs, and Furihata-kun was in the way. I simply forgot to go around him."

Kagami sweatdropped.

"No way... Furi, were you okay after that?" He asked, split brows furrowing.

And Furihata just laughed: "Yeah, a couple bruises here and there as well as a cut, but it's nothing big and Kuroko already apologized."

"How inconsiderate of you, Tetsuya." Akashi's eyes glowed with something that wasn't amusement, "to think that you, of all people, would fail to notice someone's presence."

"I mean no offense, Furihata-kun, but at that time he was a stranger that looked more like a background character than I did."

At Kuroko's nonchalant response, Akashi's eyes narrowed in irritation, and the redhead was about to say something more to his old teammate when the other redhead narrowed his eyes as well. "Since when were you so protective of Furi?" Kagami asked in an almost interrogative tone, "I don't recall you two being so close...?"

Akashi paused.

Was he protective of Furihata? Well, of course he was-anyone who wasn't at least a little protective of this doe-eyed, fluff-haired, nervous wreck of a creature was either heartless or stupid, and Akashi Seijuurou was neither. Granted, he probably scared the guts out of the brunette the last time he saw him, which was on court, but that was because he was too focused on Kuroko because it was a game-you don't feel protective of your opponents-but now that he's actually sitting next to him, he's free to verbally punch the crap out of anyone that dares to hurt this. So why is Taiga so surprised?

Seriously...Akashi mentally sighed as he turned to see Furihata shaking his head like a terrified puppy. Is this guy aware of how cute his fluffy hair and large, canine-like eyes were? As the brunette turned his head back, though, the redhead felt yet another unconscious smile climb onto his face-honestly, as much as he respected Furiha-sensei, the mangaka really failed to capture Furihata Kouki's cuteness because this guy is cute. Not necessarily hot or handsome, but cute, very cute. Like, make you wanna cuddle him and rub his head cute.

Deciding to ignore Taiga's question for the moment, Akashi quietly coughed, volume not really loud enough for anyone but the brunette to hear.

And then the question naturally slipped out of his mouth:

"Furihata, do you have a girlfriend?"

He watched as Furihata's face flushed a deep red and, slightly perturbed by his own lack of restraint, Akashi almost blushed along with him. But managed to conceal it (or did he? It can be difficult to tell, whatnot with his extremely pale skin) as he tried to put on his best poker face. Actually, now that the redhead asked the question he was determined to get an answer. "Well, do you?" He repeated, "I am simply, yet remarkably, curious."

That added another couple of layers of red to the brunette's face. The redhead sat back and sipped his drink (a poorly brewed cup of red tea) as he witnessed a couple of dry chuckles from the male.

"H-ha, W-well, I'm honored that you think so highly of me." He pathetically laughed, and Akashi's brows furrowed, "But I'm afraid that I'm noy someone that others would consider particularly attractive."

"Nonsense. What about the girl from earlier? You two seemed to get along fine."

"O-oh, Koneko-chan? We're just friends."

A boy and a girl are "Just friends" and nothing more? Akashi hummed-that's slightly unusual, though he believed Furihata because one, the guy doesn't look like the type to lie and two, he saw with his own two eyes how they interacted with each other. Still, it annoys Akashi just a little that he's so self-deprecative. "I'm sure there are plenty of girls that find you attractive" Akashi paused, "And guys."

He shouldn't have snickered when smoke, literally, cqme out of the brunette's ears, but he did anyway. Intending to calm his nerves just a little, Akashi placed a hand on Furihata's back when the door opened again to reveal their final guest.

"Maaan, Shin-chan, I can't believe we were the last to arrive!"

"It's because you broke my lucky item with your lousy driving!"

"Hey." Takao crossed his arms, "if you're gonna complain you should pedal the rickshaw for once. And what kind of lucky item is a carton of eggs anyway?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if I talked too much here...I really wanted to write a bit more about the relationships between the GoM members. But next chapter will reveal the purpose of the meeting! ^L^ Also, I have another favor to ask of you-It's about Haizaki. Of course, he's not going to end up with Furi (sorry for spoiler) but I'm having a little internal debate about who he'll end up with instead. I was originally thinking Nijimura (who'll show up later) but some were thinking Hanamiya so which one would you guys prefer? Once again, not a strict poll, just wondering about your opinions?
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	15. What. The. Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Do you remember me? :'-D The last time I updated was a little more than a month ago...
> 
> ...I'm sorry, please don't punch me.
> 
> Unfortunately, this chapter isn't going to be super long (or super well-written since I was SO nervewracked about my anatomy final) so...not much of a reward? ;-; I hope the plot is enough to make up for it?

There, right by the door, stood Midorima Shintarou in all his green-haired glory, thankfully donned in an elegant grey sweater and not in his ridiculous-looking basketball uniform. Like always, the male stood with a haughty curve in his back and without much emotion on his face besides, perhaps, some mild irritation directed at his servant/shadow/whatever he is.

Green eyes wandered about the room and happened to meet Akashi's heterochromic ones, and the redhead tried to say hello and affirm his plans to stay over at Midorima's residence for the night, but Midorima turned away quickly. 

Too quickly, in fact. 

Akashi raised an eyebrow at that, but decided to not say anything about it as the room quietened down to a reasonable degree in comparison to its previous chaos. Gradually, everyone's eyes began to turn toward the newcomers. Takao, grinning like the socialite that he is, greeted the crowd: "Hello everyone! Shin-chan and I were a bit late, but--"

"Oi, Midorima!" Aomine groaned across the table, interrupting whatever the point guard was going to say, "why the hell are you late to a meeting you called for?"

Narrowing his eyes for whatever, the addressed male adjusted his glasses, eyes scanning over Akashi, again, before turning to glare at the blue-haired imbecile instead. "This guy right here broke my lucky item." He hissed, pointing a taped thumb in Takao's direction (to which the other replied with a helpless shrug of his shoulders), "but I find it ludicrous that you, of all people, complain about my being late, considering that you yourself are late more times than not."

"H-hey!" the tanned male choked, "d-don't change the topic! Why the hell are we here? I had to take a break from Mai-chan for you!"

"Yeah, Midorimacchi!" Kise whined, "I had to cancel a movie date! How will you soothe my broken heart?"

"Mm mm!" Murasakibara agreed as he stuffed what must have been the ten thousandth maiubo into his mouth, "Mido-chin made me take a reaaaally long train ride! I want you to pay me in maiubos!"

Midorima tried to defend himself, but those three have already decided that whatever he says would be rendered nonsense by their wails and complaints. As the three idiots started to gang up on Midorima, Akashi felt a mix of a nostalgic smile and a familiar groan clamber up his face; these three have been doing this--utilizing their rather loud mouths to bully and annoy Midorima--since middle school, and, well, Akashi supposed that he was amused by the fact that some things, no matter how stupid, never change.

While he planned to sit back and enjoy their antics this time, however, a pleading glare from Midorima dragged the redhead back into action.

Of course--he mentally groaned--he had to save Shintarou from this mess back then too. Sighing, Akashi focused everyone's attention onto him with a refined cough.

"So I understand that some of you may feel confused about the necessity of this meeting," he said, "but Shintarou cannot explain himself if there's three people incessantly complaining in his ears."

"But Akashichii I had to cancel a date--"

"And I am sincerely sorry about that." Akashi didn't sound it, but he couldn't care less, "but since you're here, it might do you some good to understand why."

With that, Kise's semi-imaginary puppy ears drooped and flattened on top of his blond head. One by one, the same went for Aomine and Murasakibara as well. Glaring at their bowed heads, Akashi didn't know whether he should laugh or cry at his old teammates' antics and, mentally sighing, he turned toward the green-haired man, addressing him as well as everyone else that's staring at him: "Would you do the honors of announcing the reason for our meeting here," He invited, "with our...close friends present no less?"

Midorima nodded politely toward his saviour. Clearing his throat, the green-haired male started: "O-of course. Thank you very much, Akashi, for the...uh...kind introduction." (Takao snorted at "kind introduction", and the green-haired man promptly gave him a glare before turning back to address the crowd) "I called all of us together to address a very serious issue--"

"No shit. It better be fucking serious."

"Dai-chan!" Momoi cried, "Manners! Please, ignore him Midorin!"

"I wasn't going to devote him any attention, but thank you, Momoi." Midorima acknowledged as he opened his sidebag, which had laid somewhat unnoticed by his side up until now. "You see, I was in the bookstore the other day, and I was simply going through my book list --"

"You are too pretentious, Midorimacchi--"

"--Shut up, Kise--when this popped up in my view."

Sakurai asked: "What is it?", stretching his neck outward, along with Furihata, to gape at the familiar-looking booklets Midorima placed on the table, and Akashi audibly heard him, along with Furihata, gasp next to him. The redhaired male himself, though, only raised an amused eyebrow.

He never knew Midorima Shintarou read Yaoi. Furiha Kou's works, no less.

\---

WHAT THE HELL. FURIHATA KOUKI LEFT HIS HOUSE TO HAVE A GOOD TIME, AND HE'S HONESTLY FEELING SO ATTACKED RIGHT NOW.

Seriously, what did he do to deserve this luck? First, Koneko learned about his male crush. Then, said male crush showed up out of nowhere and made him look like a fool. And now some green-haired tsundere found out about his perverted manga that was based off of said tsundere.

After Midorima finished removing Furihata's sins from his bag (which held quite a lot of it, unexpectedly--that bag looked a lot smaller than it was), the other rainbowheads and their partners curiously reached toward the mangas, picking up those with characters that looked like them on the front page, as to be expected. Silently, Furihata contemplated picking up "The Lone Emperor" to fit in with the rest, but every time his eyes looked in the direction of the lone manga book a great sense of shame washes over him and the boy had to turn his eyes away--

Akashi Seijuurou being right by his side didn't help, either.

As they flipped through the pages, the boys' faces faded from surprise to shock to plain out horror (with the exception of Kagami and Kise, who looked utterly embarrassed and oddly excited, respectively.) 

Himuro whimpered: "What is this?"

Midorima's glare darkened, and a scowl actually began to emerge on his decent-looking face. "As you've seen." He spat out, "some pervert has dared to base pornographic characters off of us and to blatantly misinterpret the interactions between our close friends and we!"

Takao snickered behind him. "She--or he--got your personality on point, though, Shin-chan~" the black-haired commented, waving "the life of a carrot" in his hands and smiling way too wide to be innocent, "I mean, you are a cute little tsundere."

Tsunderi--I mean Midorima's--face turned bright red. "I am not. A. Tsundere!" He hissed, "and I am not cute."

(--Said Every tsundere, ever.)

On the other side of the table, Aomine's face turned into strawberry chocolate instead of his, well, usual shade of chocolate. Both him and Sakurai froze on their seats, though Sakurai seemed somewhat less scarred than Aomine was. Well, Furihata reasoned, Sakurai WAS the seme. If Furihata was in his position he would probably feel nice about that.

"What the hell?" the tanned male screeched, "Me and SAKURAI? Where did the person get that idea?!"

(You were rubbing your crotch against his behind with an orgasmic expression! What OTHER idea was Furihata supposed to get? And please, you know it's always the cute ones that screw people up.)

"Atsushi just sees me as a friend!" Himuro cried, "and I'm not gay!"

("I am not gay." That's what every gay man said before they fell in love with another male. Oh, and by the way, Murasakibara totally only sees you as a friend--that's why he clings to you like a big bear and lets you slap him with no repercussion when he talks about crushing every other person he saw.)

Kuroko sipped his vanilla milkshake as he perused "shadow and light" with a steaming Kagami by his side. Raising an eyebrow, the male commented: "...As far as I know, Kagami-kun only sees me as a friend."

(As far as you know, Kagami blushes like a tomato every time you compliment him because of the weather because you two are dorks that keep on forgetting to confess to each other! Seriously, you two send more texts to each other in a day than most couples do in a week, and don't you dare to say that's normal because Furihata doesn't text Kagami in class and start the conversation with "your hair is really cute today, Kagami-kun".)

(Don't ask him how he knew that--let's just leave it at "Takatsuki Koneko and Kagami Taiga are in the same class")

"A-And Takao i-is only a close male acquaintance!" Midorima stutted out, pathetically trying to cover up his embarrassment with coughs.

Furihata rolled his eyes.

(I'm sorry, but in what world does a "close male acquaintance" wake up at 6:00 AM to watch some superstitious show you like, prepare the (remarkably prankstery, if you ask Furihata) lucky items presented in that show, and travel halfway across the town to pull you to school in a rickshaw? Also, why the hell would this "close male acquaintance" feel the need to address you with such a cute nickname based off of your FIRST NAME? Furihata has known Fukuda and Kawahara since they were in the last year of elementary school, and the most intimate they have called him is "Furi"--none of them calls him "Kou-chan" or some other thing like that.)

Momoi's head fell to the table with a bang.

Everyone turned to face the pink-haired girl, watching in awe as the only female in the group began sobbing.

"Why are these all guuuuuuuuys..." The girl cried, "WHY is there no room for a lesbian girl trying to find loooooove..."

"Shh..." Aomine gently patted his childhood friend's head as an act of comfort, "it's okay, Satsuki..."

More tears seemed to roll off of her face as the tanned male said that, and the pink haired girl fell onto Kuroko's lap. A muffled scream of "WHY DO YOU GUYS ALL HAVE MANGA BASED OFF OF YOU AND I DON'T?!" echoed from between Kuroko's legs, and the blue haired male nodded in sympathy as she sobbed.

Furihata guiltily turned his head away. I literally went into Yaoi because I can't draw girls, he mentally replied, so Yuri is, like, double whammy. Though he did somewhat feel bad for Momoi, he is still, to this day, incapable of drawing girls that don't look like men with misplaced mammalian glands, and even if she is fine with that, Furihata is sure that most of his readers won't be.

Well, at least Furihata knows he won't have to fear her as a potential love rival for Kagami--Maybe he'll even make a manga based on Momoi and Riko's genderbends. He turned from the girl with a contemplative sigh.

Kise, on the other hand, glowed like someone just handed him a free burger.

"Sempai~" the blond purred childishly as he waved "My manager can't be this cute" in front of Kasamatsu, "Look, it's a love story someone based off of us!"

Kasamatsu rubbed his temples, his face just a bit redder than it was before. "Yes, Kise, I see that. You told me about it once." He said, "You said it reminded you of us."

"You're so cute as a manager, though! Look at this picture, it is totally us!"

"I see, Kise. And no, I'm not going to become an entertainment manager because of this."

The large golden retriever pup whined, but, as quickly as it came, the frown faded and was replaced with a devilish grin. "I can't believe Furiha-sensei lied, though." Kise wondered out loud, "He told me that he didn't base any of his mangas on real people, and ha, here we are!"

And with that everyone paused and turned their heads toward the bubbly blond, narrowing their eyes at him. The blond continued to indulge in his world, going on and on about how wonderful Furiha-sensei is until until, unexpectedly, Kuroko spoke up.

"You knew the artist of these artworks, Kise-kun?" He asked.

"Yeah, Furiha Kou-sensei!" Kise laughed, "He's getting pretty famous!"

"He's becoming famous from drawing these obscene figures of us." Midorima hissed, "and you didn't tell us?"

With that, Kise's face immediately flipped from loft obliviousness into a mix of shock and "oh shit". "W-well, it's not like I know him personally, " The blond chuckled awkwardly, "All I did was send him a letter asking about whether he based these mangas off of real people and that I related to them a lot, and sensei replied, that's all! Right, Kagamicchi?"

Now it was Kagami's turn to go into "oh shit" mode. "Way to deflect the attention, you golden haired ass", burgundy eyes hissed at Kise--and chocolate eyes might or might not have done the same--as their owner awkwardly coughed. And coughed again.

And again until the other power forward got sick of this dawdling and demanded: " if you have something to say, say it, Bakagami. "

"W-what? I-I'm just cleaning out my lungs--"

"I know for a fact that you don't have anything in your lungs right now, Kagami-kun." Kuroko said, blue eyes glaring (a little bit) at his boyfriend--I mean best friend. "Just tell it to us straight--do you know about this Furiha-sensei?"

"Yeah, he does!" Kise chirped, "The manga that you're holding is actually his favorite, right, Kagami--"

Before he could completely finish his sentence, though, the blond was yelping in pain from a harsh kick to his shin. As he winced, Kagami looked on with innocent confusion--Innocent confusion that was completely understandable, by the way, since he didn't touch the blond--while Furihata retrieved his feet with a mix of satisfaction and worry. Worry because Kagami not only knows Furiha-sensei, he also knows who this Furiha-sensei is in real life and that could screw Furihata over big time.

(And satisfaction because he just kicked a large idiot in the shin and he's proud of it. He'll never get the guts to do it again, though.)

"What the hell Kagamicchi kicked me!" Kise whined, "You meanie!"

"H-hey!" The taller redhead barked, in shock, "I didn't kick you!"

"Yes you did!"

"No I didn't!"

"Yes you did!"

"No I di--"

"Enough." Akashi said.

Everyone's eyes turned toward the short redhead, who had, now that Furihata thought about it, been surprisingly silent since the beginning of this mess. With a commanding hum, the redhead he glared at the two offenders, a flash of annoyance running across his heterochromatic eyes before settling heavily on the green-haired man. 

"Yes, so we all know that there's been manga based off of us, Shintarou." Akashi stated, expression a strange mix of annoyance and something else he can't name.The redhead paused to let the other man reply, and when he didn't, the shorter's scowl grew deeper and--Akashi actually sounds like he's hissing--continued: "Please do tell me that you didn't call us all here just so you could complain."

Midorima opened his mouth to speak, but Takao jumped before him. "Hey." The black-haired man said accusingly, "Don't talk to Shin-chan that way."

To that Akashi raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"I said, don't talk to Shin-chan that way."

"How interest--"

Midorima got between the two point guards before anything dangerous could happen. "Takao, Akashi stop it." The male said, "Takao, Akashi didn't mean anything by it, and Akashi, I was going to lay out a plan but got interrupted."

He took a step back, and apologized: "I'm sorry."

Takao's eyes widened, and steel-blue irises almost looked like they were going to break from the... emotion...inside them. He whispered: "Shin-chan..." 

Akashi's eyes softened, and he reached out to gently hold Midorima's hand, "Shintarou." He conceded, "I see. I gravely apologize for using that tone with you. Please go forth with your plan."

Furihata raised an eyebrow and Midorima nodded. He turned back toward the crowd, politely ignoring the stink eye that Takao's giving Akashi as he opened his mouth.

"We will have to confront her--or him--about this." He stated, "on one of these books there is an address for us to send letters to, and we could--"

"Pssht, letters won't do shit." Aomine rudely interrupted, face bursting into rage, "The guy could just pretend he never saw our letter and throw it away along with our anger. We have to corner him, physically, and then confront him."

"I can't believe I am saying this, but I agree with Aomine-kun." Kuroko added, "The only way we could guarantee a reply from Furiha-sensei is if we can talk to him face to face." He paused, and pointed his blue eyes towards Kagami. "Kagami-kun, do you know where he lives?" He asked.

"I-I..." The tall male stuttered, seemingly struggling over whether to tell the cafe the truth or not. His eyes pointed toward Furihata, burgundy meeting nervous chocolate, refusing to leave even as Kuroko repeated the question.

They were filled with confusion and hesitation as everyone, aside from Furihata, narrowed their eyes in expectation.

As their gaze continued to fix on the brunette, Furihata was the first to move away out of shame--How could he leave Kagami in this position? It's his job to keep his identity guarded, not Kagami; even if he told the world, Furihata would have no one to blame but himself.

How did he think for a second that no one would notice? After all, not everyone is as dense as Kagami and Kise were. Practically any person who knew Akashi, even just a little, could tell that Seishi Aka was a carbon copy of him and that Kouhata was a shameless self-insert. God, how is he supposed to live if Kagami gave his identity away right here? He would either get punched to death or have no hope of living a normal high school life--

 

Kagami ultimately broke out: "I don't know." He said, "All I know is that he's in Tokyo."

Furihata stilled, and his heart might have actually beaten out "thank you" in morse code as he looked at Kagami with shocked eyes, and Midorima sighed.

"I see, that's too unfortunate." Midorima commented, "We would have to find another way to ascertain his location."

"You know, are you guys even, like, really sure that this guy based his stories off of you guys?" Kagami lifted up "Shadow and Light" and argued, "I mean, look at these characters: They obviously look nothing like me and Kuroko! Kuroko isn't that tall!"

"But you can't base your opinions off of one work, Taiga." Himuro retorted, lifting up "Beauty and the Beast", "The main characters in this manga is very obviously Atsushi and me."

"But how do you know for sure?" Kagami fake laughed, "For all we know, he could just be a guy that's into rainbow-coloured themes! Like red for passion, purple for mystery, yellow for cuteness, et cetera, et cetera..."

Everyone fell into deep thought, and the room threatened to fall into silence.

Takao, eventually, agreed with Kagami: "Guys, you know that Kagami's right. We DON'T know for sure that this guy has been basing manga after manga off of US, specifically--I mean, we are a pretty strange gang--and I don't think having suspicions is enough of a reason to stalk this guy and physically beat him up."

People furrowed their eyebrows and looked at each other, lips pitter-plattering in conversation. As some people nodded in understanding, Furihata felt a strange courage grow in him. Maybe he'll get past this, maybe no one will suspect anything and life will continue on, and Furihata can keep on doing what he's doing.

But oh, of course none of that happened.

"Oi!" Midorima and Aomine simultaneously yelled, "Are you guys listening?"

"I can't believe that you guys think it's okay to let off a stalker!" Aomine hissed a little too vehemently (and Furihata rolled his eyes--you're just bitter that you're bottom to Sakurai) "We need to actually talk to him about this shit!"

"For once, I agree with Aomine." Midorima agreed, face red with irritation and embarrassment, "We would at least need to talk about it with Furiha-san, and see if he can do anything about it because I don't want to see myself in Erotic manga! It would endanger my job opportunities!"

(How the hell would looking like a character in a porno affect your job prospects? Furihata's sure that some fangirls, like Koneko, would literally hire someone just BECAUSE they looked like a guy in Yaoi Manga.)

"But Taiga and Takao has a point." Himuro said, "We don't know where this guy lives--we would have to stalk him to find out."

"Well there must be some other way we can contact him!" Aomine threw his hands up in the air, "Like through the publishing house, through post office records, through--ooh!" Indigo eyes lit up in sudden enlightenment, "What about public events? He's a mangaka--he's got to attend these!"

"Actually, " Kagami said, "Furiha Kou is well-know for not being very open and rarely showing up at events--"

"He's going to go to Kyoto Yaoi con in a couple of weeks, though!" Kise brightly interrupted, (and Furihata tried to kick him again, only to wince when his foot came in harsh contact with a table leg) "A magazine said so, so we can all go to Kyoto and talk to him there!"

"And we can rest at my estate." Akashi added, and with that this conversation is over. The room nodded in finality, and the red-haired man affirmed.

"So on the day before all of us present here will go to Kyoto and have a little talk with Furiha-sensei? If there is any conflict in schedule, please inform me now--"

Oh shit.

Oh shit.

Furihata's screwed.

"U-uh...Actually..." he timidly raised his hand, trying not to be suspicious, "I-I have something on that day, a-and I am committed already so I can't change it..."

Akashi, as expected, raised an eyebrow. "What is this 'something' that you have been committed to, Furihata-kun?" He asked in his velvety voice, and Furihata almost jumped at the accusing tone in his voice.

Or maybe he's just imagining the accusatory tone because he's been scared out of his mind.

"U-u-u-uh, i-it's work." Furihata stuttered.

And when Akashi didn't look entirely convinced, the brunette clumsily added: "I have to support my family since we're kinda going through a rough period with my mom sick and my sisters too small to be independent and..."

Shit. why is he talking so much about his pathetic life? These guy have no business listening to him--

"Furihata-kun." Kasamatsu's voice came out of nowhere. When Furihata turned to face him, the older man gave the younger boy an understanding smile and stretched out a hand to gently pat his shoulder. "We get it, you're a busy man." He said understandingly as he turned to Akashi and asked, a little angrily, "he won't have to come along, right?" 

"Of course he won't." Akashi Seijuurou flashed him an understanding smile, "What kind of man do you take me to be?"

"A spoilt brat." Kasamatsu hissed under his breath.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." Kasamatsu turned his head back to Furihata. "Keep on supporting your family, young man, and don't miss work unless you absolutely has to." He encouraged kindly, "I'm surprised that you're taking so much responsibility at such an age, but that's important."

"Alright, so is there anyone else here that's going to be missing?"

"A-Actually," Sakurai raised a hand as well, "I-I have extra classes that day as well, so I can't come."

Akashi narrowed his eyes, but nodded. "Alright, you are excused as well. Anyone else?"

The room stayed silent.

"Good. Then I'll see you all at the Kyoto Yaoi Con with Furiha-sensei."

Shit.

Furihata's not feeling any less screwed.

"It's okay." Kasamatsu smiled warmly, "Keep on supporting your family. We'll beat up that Furiha-sensei up in your place."

As Aomine clenched his right fist against his left palm with an excitatory gleam in his eyes, Furihata made a mental note to get some bodyguards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> QAQ I'm sorry for updating so little after such a long wait! But all my classes are done, so I'll (hopefully) update more! I feel like I'll be budgeoned to death for what I'm planning for these two in the next couple of chapter, but they'll get together, I promise!
> 
> Thank you for reading my humble fanfic!


	16. The Way Back Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo...I think this was definitely faster than last update! ^ ^; Here's a little AkaFuri here for our enjoyment, but it'll be a while until they actually get together. This chapter definitely went a bit out of my comfort zone with the Action (you'll see it), so I would really appreciate any advice I can get on writing these actions better!
> 
> Thank you for following and please enjoy!

As the teenagers’ conversations, bickering, and bashful flirtation went on, other people in the restaurant began to simmer away. The blue sky slowly faded into a darker shade, and heterochromatic eyes subconsciously looked on as the concrete streetlights flickered on, one by one, in the descending night, golden lights illuminating the dark night along with a lone trail of smoke from an undead cigarette. 

"Ah." Kise commented, looking out the maji burger window, "it's getting pretty dark outside."

Akashi paused his conversation with Midorima and turned to the window. The redhead then turned back and, with a sigh, concurred: "I'm afraid that Ryouta is correct, everyone. It is getting rather late outside, and we ought to make our way back now."

Some groans of discontent were heard, but none dared to vocalize it more than a whisper. A haphazard shuffling of feet and fabric filled the room as everyone said goodbyes to their old (or in Himuro and Sakurai's case, new) friends, and promised to meet again. While Akashi was engrossed in cleaning up his own spot, someone gently tapped on his shoulder. When the redhead turned his head over at the signal, he found Midorima standing behind him with a serious expression and, oddly, shaky fingers. 

"Akashi." Midorima said.

"Yes Shintarou?" He replied, curiously, "what is the matter?"

"I-I...I-I have something to tell you--would you mind walking with me to the station?"

Narrowing his eyes in confusion, Akashi blinked, before glancing at the Shuutoku point guard out of the corner of his eye. "Sure," he replied, "but what about Takao over here? Usually you go home with him, don’t you?"

For a second, a tint of worry crossed over Midorima’s features as he looked back, green eyes meeting steel blue ones. After a bit of hesitation, he managed to inquire of his companion: "...You wouldn't mind going alone for tonight, would you, Takao?"

The words were uttered slowly, as if the question was more to reassure himself of something instead of convincing Takao. And for a moment, a definite look of shock was seen in the point guard's eyes, but the black-haired male quickly covered it with a cough. "U-uh..." Takao muttered, numbly, before quickly switching to a more nonchalant expression. "Of course not, Shin-chan!” He giggled cheerily, “What do you think I am? A damsel in distress?"

"I- it's not like I care about you or anything!" 

"Oh sure Shin-chan ~" 

Takao laughed, in a way that no one except the most experienced could tell was fake. Akashi, fortunately or not, was one of these "most experienced", and knew that Takao was laughing exactly the way a rejected admirer does after a confession to not make things awkward. 

He raised an eyebrow at that, and the redhead actually moved to open his mouth about walking home with Midorima some other time when his ears perked up at the other redhead’s worried tone.

"Furi, are you going to be okay?" Kagami asked, furrowing his eyebrows, "I'm staying over at Kuroko's for the night, and he lives in a pretty good neighborhood so I'm fine...But, you know--"

Furihata interrupted him with a chuckle: "I'm fine, Kagami--I've lived there for most of my life."

"Doesn't make it any less of a shady area. Seriously, wanna come over to Kuroko's with me?"

"No no no no! I'll be fine!"

"I'm still worried."

"What are you, my mom?"

"No, he's just being a compassionate friend." Akashi interrupted, stepping next to Furihata and staring into the taller’s burgundy eyes. 

The shorter redhead watched with amusement as both Furihata and Kagami's eyes went wide with shock, and he teased: "Aren't you, Taiga? I would be worried, too, if my friend has to go home alone at this hour."

Kagami's eyes twitched. 

"Excuse me, but what the hell does this have to do with you?" He asked in an interrogative tone (but he did not interrogate, no, because no one dared to interrogate Akashi), "Me and Furi were just having a conversation and--"

"And I was simply offering to escort him home." Akashi stated, "since you are unable to do so."

At those words the entire cohort fell silent. Those who heard him, like Kagami and Furihata, stood wide-eyed in surprise, and those who didn't hear him, like Aomine and Momoi, looked blankly at him as well, probably trying to figure out what the hell is going on. 

What in the world are they all getting excited over? It’s unsafe for anyone to be walking alone at this time of day, and he was thoroughly trained in Martial arts. This cute puppy (Yes, he's calling Furihata a puppy now because he reminds him of one. You got a problem?) could use that protection if he's walking home alone, and Akashi found him pleasant enough to enjoy talking to him. 

Actually, the second part was more important. For the redhead, this walk home would serve as time well spent in getting to know someone he felt nice about. He's not that nice, you know?

"I'm sorry, Shintarou. My fatherly instincts are acting up again." He remarked as he turned back to Midorima, one of those who did hear him and was at this time standing wide-eyed, "I can't let such a helpless person go home alone, so maybe you can walk with Takao to the Station instead?"

Oh, and helping Furihata also served as a good excuse for not leaving with Midorima.

The green-haired male frowned at Akashi’s words, and the two then stared into each other's eyes for what felt like an hour before, eventually, Midorima resigned with a sigh. "Alright, Akashi." He reluctantly approved, "But please remember that you'll be staying over at my house for the duration of this visit, and come to the station after you're done, okay?"

"Of course." Akashi answered.

Midorima nodded, and he consequently bid his farewells and walked out with Takao (who was too busy beaming and laughing with his "Shin-chan" to properly look at Akashi, for your information). As their footsteps faded away, the redhead let out a small smile and turned back to face Furihata. "Come, it's time for us to leave, too." He said, stretching out an arm.

Furihata looked like someone lit him on fire. 

Akashi rolled his eyes. He called out to Furihata, again: "Come on, Furihata-kun. We'll have to get you home soon."

The poor boy seemed to freeze, and even when he responded after several minutes had passed, the way he moved toward Akashi reminded the latter a bit of how he first appeared on the court: shocked stiff and barely coherent. 

The brunette boy continued to mechanically move until he came to a sudden stop, like a robot that had lost its battery, and paused in front of Akashi. Kuroko whispered something into Aomine's ears, and then the tanned male's eyes went wide as well. 

"Yooo..." He guffawed in his grouchy voice, "Akashi."

Ignoring Aomine’s snarky noises, Akashi continued to try and revive Furihata. "Furihata-kun, hello?” he gently coaxed, “Fu-ri-ha-ta-kun?" 

Furihata’s face began to turn an unnatural color, and Aomine was, all of a sudden, on the ground holding his stomach and genuinely having a difficult time breathing and laughing at the same time. 

"BWAHAHA you scared the chihuahua BWAHAHA!" The tall male roared out between laughs, "so THIS is what happens when the emperor falls in love BWAHAHA"

Akashi narrowed his eyes. 

"I didn't know you were a tsundere as well, Akashi-kun."

"With all due respect, Tetsuya, you didn't need to get involved in this."

Kuroko just shrugged and raised an eyebrow. 

Furihata, though, seemed to have woken up at some point during him and Aomine's encounter. "I'm sorry." The brunette apologized, "I guess I just got a little...eh..."

"It's okay, I would freeze in fear too if Akashi-kun, of all people, suddenly offered to take me home, Furihata-kun."

"Kuroko Tetsuya, please shut your mouth about my affairs for a change."

"If he takes you to a shady river with red stuff floating on it, don't--"

"Kuroko Tetsuya, stop it."

"Never."

✂️

Wow, Akashi mused as he walked down a silent road, the sky darkens at a truly remarkable speed these days. Back in the restaurant, the blueish hue had occupied half of the space; when they left, one could at least steal a glimpse of the brightness that was present during the day; but now, as two pairs of footsteps pitter-pattered on the concrete sidewalk, illuminated by nothing aside from the golden lamplights, the sky seemed to have been painted black. Not even a single star was visible in the curtain of night, though it may just be due to Akashi not looking hard enough.

“A-Akashi-kun!” Furihata flailed behind Akashi, and the redhead had to resist the urge to turn him off like a radio, “I-I don’t need this!”

"Better than to have a real alarm with no one to protect you, Furihata-kun." He replied. 

And watched with amusement as the other's face lit up. 

"I-I..." Furihata stuttered, (Akashi felt sort of guilty taking pleasure in his embarrassment, but eh) "I don't need protection..."

"Sure, sure, You don't need protection--I just felt like offering it, okay?"

"B-but how will you get back?"

"I'm trained in martial arts, and I can stand my own against any attacker. You, on the other hand..."

"Hey!"

"Are you saying that I shouldn't be here?"

"No! I-I-I'm not saying that your protection i-is unwelcome or anything! P-please don't be offended..."

"Hmm...for what reason should I forgive your rude words?"

"A-ack!"

"Ha ha ha" Akashi chuckled, taking just a little too much pleasure from Furihata's reactions. Can you blame him? Who doesn't enjoy seeing a cute boy thrash around, slick and red with sweat and embarrassment? Oh, imagine his face if Akashi ever get to --lovingly-- torture him, bend him down and dominate him and fu--

Ah, pleasant thoughts.

(Yes, Akashi Seijuurou does know what the words “Sadistic Bastard” mean, why do you ask?)

Furihata blushed. "Don't laugh, Akashi-kun." He angrily mumbled, and Akashi bursted out in a smile. Aww. 

"Don't tell me what not to laugh at, Furihata."

"S-sorry..."

"That was a joke."

"H-huh?"

"That was a joke, Furihata-kun."

"W-well, it was a lousy one, then."

"You don’t have the right to tell me that my jokes are bad."

Furihata was about to open his mouth to protest, but then closed it, presumably in contemplation of whether that was meant to be a joke. As brunette eyebrows knitted together and chocolate eyes grew increasingly more frantic, Akashi sighed. Some people just don't get jokes even if you tell them.

"You seemed pretty calm back in the restaurant," He said, starting another topic of conversation, "For someone who learned that he was featured in Erotic manga."

He wasn't expecting Furihata to do a double take at the question. Heterochromatic eyes narrowed as the brunette began to practically scream: "W-what are you talking about?!", and Akashi paraphrased his question: "Why were you so calm about being drawn in erotic homosexual manga?" and watched with suspicion as Furihata, quite visibly, scrambled for an answer in his mind. 

Why was Furihata struggling to come up with an answer for that question? Yes, Akashi's well aware that the brunette has a crush on him and that, in comparison to the others, there were relatively little stories that Furiha-sensei made of Furihata and him, but most boys would be enraged at the slightest suggestion of their homosexuality. Akashi's not angry because he's intellectually curious, Ryouta's not angry because he's a very gay banana, and Murasakibara's not angry because--well, he just couldn't care--but generally, those that aren't enraged all have strong personalities and a clear reason for it. Furihata doesn’t look like one of those cases, and he's not angry, but he can't clearly say why? 

He is hiding something, Akashi thought. However, he kept a straight face while the brunette continued to flounder.

After a couple minutes, Furihata finally squeaked out: “U-uh...I-I didn't really think it was that big of a deal--I mean, it's not like the guy physically bothered us or any of our stuff was stolen."

"You don't take issue with being written into erotic manga?"

"N-no." He laughed, and scratched his head, "I mean, it's not like they were so similar to our daily lives that we can tell he definitely stalked us. The guy probably just saw us and got creative, you know? N-not that I have read any of his works..."

Akashi lifted an eyebrow appreciatively and nodded. 

He agreed with what Furihata said, even though he still can't shake the suspicion that the brunette's hiding something. 

Well, he concluded, even if Furihata's hiding something, it's really none of his business. 

"I agree with you." he responded, "I don't really mind being the inspiration for artwork as long as it doesn't reveal a disturbing amount about me, though" he smirked before he continued, "Furiha-sensei has quite the imagination."

"H-how?"

"Well, I don't know how well you read his works, but Furiha-sensei's deductive abilities are remarkably impressive. He really understands how to build a character, and most of the times his portrayals are close to the actual persons even though, judging from details, he doesn't know them more than a couple glimpses at a game."

"R-really?"

"Yes. He is actually quite the brilliant artist and storyteller, if you ask me. If he drew in some other genre, I'm sure he would be hailed as a master of sorts."

"T-that's too much praise, A-Akashi..." Furihata mumbled, and turned his head the other way.

Akashi actually raised an eyebrow: Is it just him, or is there a blush on Furihata Kouki's cheeks?

Must be just him.

"No, I genuinely believe that. I don't read manga often, so my opinion might be heavily biased, but I genuinely believe that he is a genius in his field and consider him to be one of my favourite artists of all time--Furihata? Are you alright?"

✂️

Furihata Kouki was sure that if someone stuck a metal probe into his head, that unfortunate individual would actually get electrocuted from all the hyperactivity in his brain. 

He can physically feel his brain frying and flatlining from the deluge of information received today. Maybe he should pinch himself to ascertain that this isn't a dream, but if this isn't, he would just look stupid and that's not good.

Okay then. Overreaction time.

JESUS CHRIST AAAAAA-AKASHI SEIJUUROU ACTUALLY READS YAOI AND ESPECIALLY MY YAOI AND HE LIKED IT AND HE ACTUALLY CALLED ME ONE OF HIS FAVOURITE ARTISTS? ERMERGERD ERMERGERD ERMERGERD WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST LISTEN TO AM I DREAMING NO I’M NOT EVEN IF I’M DREAMING THIS IS WAY TOO SWEET OF A DREAM TO GIVE UP UUH NO I AIN’T GON GIVE THIS UP BUT GAAAAAAH!

Okay, we all cool now. 

Furihata managed to regain enough of his sense to stutter, politely: "B-but Akashi, if you don't hate m-I mean Furiha-sensei's guts why are you offering the GoM an opportunity to beat him up?"

To which Akashi only smirked.

"When did I say that I would allow them to beat him up?" He replied, in that suave voice of his, with a little bit of vocal fry for extra back-shivering charm, "I only want to meet him, that's all."

D-don't blush, Furihata!

"W-why would you l-let them consider the idea, though?"

"Well..." Akashi muttered as he paused his walking. He subsequently turned to lean against a tree, species unknown, that was planted by the road for decoration. He crossed his arms with a nonchalant smirk and remarked, seemingly speaking to no one in particular: "I figured that if it was just me, Furiha-sensei can easily evade me. However, I don't intend him to get beaten up by brutes. I am curious, and I will make sure that I, and only I, can see him. "

Damn, Furihata was expecting to stay away from him at the convention. Now his plans are foiled--wait, why is Akashi going to the Yaoi Con in the first place? 

As if anticipating his question, Akashi answered: "I certainly will be there, since my family is hosting this event."

...Oh okay. Akashi's family is hosting the largest Yaoi Con ever. Nothing scary, weird, or embarrassing about that at all, nope. 

Shit.

Furihata would have quite literally screamed about this, but between Koneko finding out about Akashi, Akashi popping out of nowhere, his works being discovered, and Akashi being a fan of his work Furihata had no energy left.

This was an eventful day. 

Instead of contemplating about his life, however, he decided to drool over Akashi instead as he got up to move again. Because come on, who wouldn't choose to drool over Akashi instead of seriously thinking about their life?

If Akashi looked handsome in the crowded Maji Burger, he was gorgeous, almost hauntingly, eerily beautiful beneath the night. The silver moonlight and the honey-colored streetlamps sieved past the leaves to lightly, softly illuminate his face and leave behind a gentle shadow; his pale face was rendered almost vampiric, but it looked beautiful to Furihata.

✂️

As their footsteps resonated in the dark, the light illuminated those closest to them, but not much else. Occasionally, Akashi would see a suspicious-looking shadow, and he would pause, but continue on their way after the threat has dissipated.

He's feeling pretty good about himself right now.

The boy beside him awkwardly coughed, which successfully brought Akashi's attention back to the reason he's walking down the dark road in the first place. 

"U-uh, I'm really sorry about what happened back in the restaurant!" He apologized. Again.

Akashi narrowed his eyes in distaste. Has anyone ever told this guy that he apologizes too much? He's cute, and he's not mentally deficient--at least he doesn't look like it--why is he apologizing so much? He has no reason to, and apologizing for no reason is just plain --

"You've already apologized to me once, you don't need to do it twice." Akashi hissed curtly, and Furihata's eyes widened before turning down in shame. 

And then Akashi felt genuinely guilty because he made the puppy sad. "Sorry," he softened his features, and corrected, "I appreciate your sentiment, but in my opinion you were at no fault and I really don’t like it when people apologize too much."

"Why?" Furihata asked, " is it because... It makes them look weak? "

Akashi responded: "That, and because It's pointless."

"Pointless?"

"Pointless." he sighed, "I believe that everything should be done with a purpose in mind, and pointless things just didn't stand well with that."

"Well, I most certainly agree with that." Furihata said, blinking, his chocolate eyes glowing almost orange in the street light before fading to brown again with tip taps, "but what do you think is pointless, Akashi-kun?"

The brunette's voice echoed and bounced off of walls, and the redhead laughed, because the scenery was just so oddly fitting and the topic so oddly sentimental. "Now, now...we're getting very philosophical here" Akashi remarked, half-jokingly, "But I'll oblige you, Furihata-kun--I think that anything which does not serve a purpose is pointless, you?"

"I agree with you on that, too, Akashi," Furihata answered, smiling, "but I think everything serves a purpose, so nothing is pointless."

"Do you genuinely believe that, Furihata-kun?"

"I do."

At that, Akashi bursted into roaring laughter, and the two had to pause in their way to Furihata's house because the redhead was bent over in the middle of the street. His voice violently reverberated against the walls--and to be honest, Akashi's voice sounded a little demonic in the night--and he remembered that Furihata was still there, even though that didn't soften his laughter in the slightest. He briefly registered a chihuahua being scared away by his demonic voice somewhere in the shadows, but he couldn't help but continue laughing. When he came to his senses, Furihata was backed against a wall in fear. 

Akashi let out the remnants of his chuckle. "Don't be so scared." He cooed, "I do find things humorous too, Furihata."

Furihata, very hesitantly, let go of the wall. As he gradually came into earshot of Akashi, the redhead heard him whisper: "W-what is funny in that, Akashi?" 

To which the redhead raised an eyebrow. The two then somewhat awkwardly beheld each other, Furihata shivering as a gale gusted past them. It made him shiver, but the brunette still held his distance from Akashi, and the other sighed.

"Well, you are a romantic." Akashi explained.

And Furihata, ever-so-slightly, frowned, and his eyes pointed downward. Just as Akashi was going to ask what's wrong, the brunette murmured, breathily, as if he didn't want to be heard: "I don't understand...I honestly believe that..."

He then proceeded to blink rapidly, as if holding back tears, and Akashi sighed again.

"Well then, you are quite the romantic." He said, "I simply didn't expect that of you. To genuinely believe that nothing is pointless--that is impossible. Some things are just simply not important, Furihata, and these things are pointless." Seeing no reaction from Furihata, Akashi added: "I simply don't think that everything is worthy of my attention--there is a best choice for me, and while other choices may have their benefits, it is pointless to pursue them."

"..." Furihata lifted his head, and chuckled meekly: "...You sound like a classic villain from some show."

"Do I?" Akashi laughed, "Well, such is life, Furihata."

"I don't know, I'm just not comfortable calling things pointless when there is a story behind them." The brunette continued, and Akashi can't help but smile: Furihata Kouki was a very nice person. A little too nice, perhaps, and a little sentimental--but he's not argumentative and was willing to listen to other people’s words.

Akashi decided that he liked him.

After that exchange, their conversation fell to a much more comfortable silence. Their footsteps continued to sound on the road, making small scratches as their soles glided against the coarse concrete. Akashi kept his head up while Furihata kept his head down, the former focusing his eyes on the golden scenery while the latter--well, that's none of Akashi's business, is it?

When they turned at a corner, a cold metallic gleam cut across Akashi's peripheral vision, heightening the sensory activity of all alarm receptors in his brain. The brunette, doubtlessly, caught sight of it too, for he just about jumped into the redhead's arms (which he might, or might not have, savoured the concept of) and stiffened at the sight. Both's anxiety were further elevated when a woman's shrill scream tore through the black curtain of night and echoed through the chilly air, threatening to pierce them alive.

Almost instinctively, Akashi shoved Furihata behind him. For a second, they stood like that: Two high school boys, the brunette hiding behind the redhead’s broad shoulders. The red-haired male surveyed the surroundings with a confident vigilance, and both, breath hitched and heartbeat accelerated, were prepared for whatever's going to happen.

They came to an unexpected relief as the woman from before screamed, with words this time: "BAD Dog, why are you stealing my underwear?".

An innocent-looking chihuahua popped out from behind a wall, a glittering silver collar on its neck and a lacy, obscene-looking panty in its mouth. Furihata gasped. 

"My goodness, who got you a collar?" He asked the canine, and Akashi raised an eyebrow.

"...Is this your dog?" he inquired.

The brunette laughed: "No, The Dog is a community dog and everyone takes care of it."

Well, Akashi mentally commented, he certainly looks like he's related to you, despite you two being different species. Seriously, they were eerily similar: the dog had Furihata's large, round eyes and fur the color of Furihata's hair.

He should be named Furihata number two.

After Furihata turned Furihata number two away, he turned around to breathily laugh as he returned the lost underwear to its owner, with much awkwardness and a not-wanted headrub.

Akashi then smiled. At Furihata’s misfortune, but also at the dense neighborhood that had more than a dozen houses on each block. It’s dark, and there’s practically nothing an untrained eye can see beyond the light--but the meticulously decorated houses, now that he focused on them, spoke a kind of quiescent, subdued liveliness. There’s a charm to this neighborhood, this place with no mansions and gardens but instead people who struggle everyday to make their little place nice. Here, it looks like everyone knows everyone, and everyone else’s business is your business. 

This would take some getting used to, but it ain’t bad.

-

They were walking, and were almost falling asleep in the uneventful night when a crass clank of the metal woke both of them up.

Furihata immediately went to hide behind Akashi, who glared at the source of the noise with alert heterochromic eyes. Soon enough, a bunch of guys walked up behind them with bats in their arms, hazy black eyes staring lazily at the two young ones. They all had saggy, mildly dirt-stained jeans on, and a couple of them had tattoos. 

One of them came up to Akashi and Furihata, holding a cigarette between his teeth. "Hey whatcha boys doing so late in the night?" He chirped, "Not a time for you youngsters to be wandering around, ya know?"

He then proceeded to grin, and a couple of his friends came up behind him, all grinning the same, almost maniacal smile. Furihata shivered; these guys, at this time of the night--not good news. 

"Sorry." He whispered, pulling on Akashi's sleeve, "C'mon, let's go, Akashi." 

At Furihata's words, the redhead at first looked at him funny, but nevertheless followed him as they attempted to move away from the gang.

Note the word "Attempt".

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa." Another guy, with dyed blond hair, snickered as he grabbed Akashi's arm, "What did I hear? Akashi? As in the richest family in Japan?"

"Yes, Akashi is my name. Now please let me go."

"Not so fast." The fake blond guy said as he grabbed the onlooking Furihata, and the brunette winced as his arms were bent backwards into an unnatural position. Akashi clearly caught sight of this, but only managed to hiss an angry "let him go" before another guy did the same to him.

"Haha, how about no?" this guy laughed, and Furihata crinkled his nose at the foul smell that radiated off of him.

Akashi kept a calm face, though Furihata was sure he was doing everything he can to ignore the smell and think through this situation. While he was doing that, the guy that had initially approached them smugly waddled to his cronies and smugly whispered something into their ears before smugly turning back to Furihata and Akashi, still holding the cigarette in his mouth. "Forgive us" he weaseled, "I mean, it's not everyday that we get an opportunity like this~"

Oh my god. Furihata panicked, What do they mean by "opportunity"? Are they going to rob him? Are they going to kidnap Akashi and beat him up? Are they going to--

"Ya know," the guy with the cigarette said, "this Akashi boy is real pretty."

The foul-smelling man nodded. "Pretty pale skin, cat eyes, exotic red hair and eyes--I would fuck you." 

He proceeded to smirk, and Furihata nearly puked. Akashi, however, only rolled his eyes as the cigarette guy held his chin in his hand.

"O-oi!" The guy that grabbed Furihata yelled from behind him, sounding very perturbed, "w-what got into you guys? Sure, h-he ain't bad looking but why, why the hell are you guys--"

"Shut up." the gangster waved his cigarette at Furihata while he continued to look at Akashi with an odd gleam in his eyes, "I'm just saying this son of a bitch is one hell of a lucky bastard, pretty face, big money, though a little bit stupid judging from the fact that he got into this position."

"S-so? That doesn't mean that we have to--"

"God, are you stupid?" The guy that held Akashi groaned, "we can't just let him go with a simple robbing! We have to do a little bit more! It's not everyday that he's going to walk in this neighborhood--"

"Didn't change the fact that you were homo as fuck. Like seriously, just rob him and get it over with! "

"I'm going to take his money, kidnap him, get money from his daddy, and sell him to the brothel while you chop his friend up, o--"

Before the foul-smelling guy that held him could finish his sentence, Akashi sharply chopped the Expensive, height adding heels of his foot into the gangster's toes, causing a cackling sound to emanate from the guy's sneakers as his face twitched in agony. He instinctively moved to grab his broken foot, only to receive a sharp elbow to his face from Akashi as he fell to the ground. The redhead gave the guy a final kick to his head before turning around and kicking another gangster, the cigarette guy this time, in the ribs.

The cigarette guy fell to the ground, and his cigarette flew out of his hands from the impact. Seeing this, Akashi moved to pick up the blazing object in an almost nonchalant fashion. He giggled as he made his way back, kicking an assisting gangster in his nether regions as his previous terrifier froze in shock and fear. As the redhead put a foot on the gangster's chest, his expression rapidly shifted from confident amusement to complete and utter disgust. 

"You want to bang me?" Akashi hissed, "Not in a million years."

The blazing cigarette fell onto the guy's bare, unblemished neck, and an expensive shoe violently stepped on the red-hot ashes, burning a mark into his skin, one that shalln't go away for all eternity.

The gangster's screams of agony pierced through the neighborhood and bounced from wall to wall, sending shivers down Furihata's spine as black-winged birds fluttered their wings and croaked in ominous foreboding. Wind carried his pain back and forth, sent it echoing in everyone's ears.

As Furihata felt the guy that held him freeze in terror as well, he realized that he still needed to get out. Somewhat emulating Akashi's movements, he stepped on his guy's foot. Even though he probably didn't step harsh enough to break anything, the pain still caused a loosening of the restraint and Furihata jumped out.

He ran to a safe spot beside the wall, were few would notice him. Chocolate eyes looked up from the safe spot to find Akashi smiling at him, but soon that gentleness disappeared and he was doing roundabout kicks and sending gangsters flying into walls. Furihata’s heart clenched as he looked at the redhead from afar: Will he be okay? There's so many gangsters against one of him, a-and they all looked like adults while Akashi, despite how he acted, was only just a high school boy.

“Get him!” One of the gangsters, a particularly young one, cried after he got up from the ground, “Don’t let him get away!”

Akashi glared at him and elbowed another one in his gut. As that one fell, another guy tried to sneak up to him, but the redhead caught him before he could accomplish his goal and swung the large body over his petite one, sending many gangsters who just got up back into the ground.

Furihata’s eyes went large as one of the guys ran back to the battleground with a metal rod in his hands. “He’s going to hit Akashi on his head,” the brunette whispered, to no one but himself, “I have to stop him, because Akashi can’t afford any diversion of his focus right now.”

But how? Furihata’s lips quivered, but determined hands eventually grabbed a large rock right next to him, about the size of a small soap bar, and aimed.

Okay, so the occipital lobe in in the back of the head, and a little bit down is the brainstem that’s responsible for life support, so somewhere between that should knock him out, perhaps permanently. “Look out!” He cried, and as Akashi turned back to look at him the heavy rock landed straight on the iron-wielding gangster’s head. 

Immediately, he fell onto the ground, unconscious. Everyone’s mouth hung open, including Akashi’s, but quickly enough the redhead reached for the metal bar that the gangster held and banged every other gangster on their heads, sending them all to the ground, unconscious. All of them.

Or that's what he thought.

“You bastard!” The young one screamed, and before Furihata knew it the gangster was charging at him, Furihata Kouki, with a glittering knife in his hand. 

Akashi’s eyes went wide, and the redhead launched his body forward to stop him, but all to no avail as the brunette was frozen in shock. Is this my fate? He thought, to be dead on a dark night?

"Oi! You, stop it!"

A familiar voice yelled from some place far away, causing the guy that was going to stab Furihata to suddenly pause and look up. The brunette briefly registered Akashi staring at the source of the voice as well, but Furihata himself was too relieved to care as he slid down the wall, head matted with sweat.

-

Haizaki was aimlessly walking around the neighborhood to get away from his mother when a piercing scream caught his attention. Since he had nothing better to so, the cornrowed teen had decided to go observe and, perhaps, help if he felt like it. 

When he arrived, he quickly discovered that the commotion was between a gang he was somewhat familiar with and one individual that, although he wished he didn’t, he recognized. To his disappointment, that unholy scream didn’t came out of the redheaded individual’s mouth, and upon that realization Haizaki promptly groaned. 

Seriously? He mentally ranted as Akashi roundhouse-kicked the fifth of them into a wall, you guys heckle people for a living and you can't even beat up a rich high school kid? Yes, the silver-haired had also singlehandedly defeated them a couple years ago as a middle school kid, but he liked to think that he was at least better than Akashi at beating people up. 

Haizaki sighed and moved away from the scene, turning his head away from the fight. 

But then, a fearful cry made his eyes go wide and turn back to it. That sounded familiar, his memory told him, and its owner shouldn't be involved in this. Haizaki ran back again, poked his head forward, and affirmed that, indeed, he knew the source of the voice. “Furihata Kouki” he had incredulously muttered, “what the fuck are you doing out her--”

He didn’t even get to finish his comment when Furihata knocked one of the gangsters out with a piece of rock the size of a small bar of soap, at which Haizaki’s mouth actually dropped open. What the fuck, Haizaki thought, that kid knocked a professional gangster out with a tiny rock. Despite the simple action, the amount of aim and situational analysis required for that is insane--Furihata took notice of a guy that most, even Haizaki, a streetfighting veteran, wouldn’t, and he actually used enough power to make the hit powerful and precise, not to mention that he did that when he was, judging from his expression, scared out of his mind. 

While Akashi proceeded to swing the metal rod around and hit everyone on the head like a mad monkey king, Haizaki mentally complimented Furihata. (He briefly lamented not being able to see a beaten up Akashi, but he was more amazed by Furihata) Does he play basketball? With that precision and situational awareness, he’d make a great point guard. He goes to Seirin, right? Apparently they had a really good basketball year--

“YOU BASTARD”

And Haizaki’s eyes went wide when he saw that Furihata was the target of a glistening knife. Oh no, not Furihata, he thought. Akashi deserved to be disembodied and sold as pork, but Furihata did nothing wrong--and don’t tell him that he barely knows the guy: he heard rumours around the neighborhood--and didn’t deserve that. 

He yelled: “Oi, You, stop it!”.

Immediately, that amateur failure of a gangster stopped and looked up with awe. The cornrowed male then turned to look at Furihata, and let out a sigh of relief as the other slid down the wall unharmed. However, now that Furihata was safe, another pair of eyes were on him, and Haizaki didn’t have to look to know that Akashi Seijuurou was looking at him with those eyes again.

He loathed, no, hated, no, fucking despised those eyes, those eyes that everyone from that damned Generation of Miracles had. They bored into him, and threatened to tear him apart like a piece of paper on the streets.

Haizaki willfully ignored it. He turned back to face the failure, who shivered at his angry expression. “H-haizaki-san? W-why did you interrupt me?” The man stuttered.

“What the hell are you doing, getting an innocent person involved?” He hissed, looking down on the perpetrator with disdain.“it’s your fault for picking a fight with the wrong dude.”

“T-the wrong dude? You know this Akashi?”

Haizaki made his glance at Akashi as quick as possible. “Yeah, Akashi Seijuurou. We went to the same middle school.”

“Woah.” the failure breathlessly laughed as he looked between Akashi and him, “Haizaki-san knew a rich guy and he didn’t tell us about it, how selfish.”

Why the bloody hell would I need to tell you? Haizaki rolled his eyes, but continued: “We didn’t know each other that well,” he said, “but I knew that he used to go to shady areas of town to pick fights with guys much bigger and tougher than you.”

“That was a long time ago, Shougo.”

Don’t fucking call me by my first name, Haizaki wanted to roar. For Furihata’s sake, though, he nodded in polite acknowledgement as he moved closer to the two of them. After getting close enough to stare at the failure face to face, Haizaki said: “You didn’t stand a fucking chance. You’re just lucky that you had someone innocent he needed to protect this time.” 

Taking one last breath, Haizaki hissed: “If you understood that, get the bloody hell out.”

To his satisfaction, the failure was then sent running for his life. Puffing air out of his lungs, Haizaki subsequently turned to Furihata. “Are you okay?” He asked.

At his voice, Furihata wobbled up, still shaking a bit from the--trauma, Haizaki supposed--as he made his way over to him and Akashi. On his face, there was a wide, goofy grin so filled with hurt. Before the brunette could muster a positive reply, and before Haizaki could move to hug him, Akashi was already by his side and swinging one of Furihata’s arms over his shoulder. 

“Are you alright, Furihata?” The redhead gently said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to save you.”

Furihata genuinely laughed, albeit a bit weakly. “O-oh yeah, I’m fine,” He replied, “T-thanks to Haizaki-kun there.”

“Gland you’re okay.” Haizaki acknowledged, but then his tone turned more scolding, “Seriously, what were you doing here this l--”

Akashi turned his head towards Haizaki and, for the first time tonight, their eyes met and Haizaki had to repress his urge to jump back. That look in Akashi’s eyes, as well as that in every other Miracle’s, frightened Haizaki--it made him shrink, made him want to punch a wall and to cry in vain--but he couldn’t do that with Furihata around. 

But they scared Haizaki more than anything in this world.

“You two know each other?” Akashi inquired.

A simple question. His tone was calm and natural, seemingly without any ulterior purpose to it. It would have sounded like a simple vocalization of his curiousity to others, but to Haizaki’s ears, there was an endless string of unspoken questions beneath it: How did you know him? Why do you know him? Do you know that he’s a scumbag? Do you know him half as well as I do? How about we--

“Haizaki-kun lives close to me; he helped me with groceries once.” Furihata said, and Akashi looked mildly surprised.

“Oh.” he replied, turning to Haizaki with that look, again, “I’m a little surprised to hear that, honestly. I never knew he was kind to anyone.”

Furihata, please don’t ask it, please--

“H-he wasn’t like this?” Furihata said confusedly, looking between Akashi and him, “What was he like, then?”

“Well--”

Haizaki just had to stop this conversation from where it’s going. “You can chat with Akashi about how we knew each other in middle school later, Furihata-kun.” He interrupted, “But why the fuck were you on the streets with him at this time?”

“Watch your language, Shougo.”

Haizaki ignored him. “It’s unsafe out on the streets this time, even for a boy.”

He had to pause when a slight blush spread across Furihata’s cheeks. The brunette mumbled something, and Haizaki actually had to lean forward to hear him shyly say: “Well, w-we were at a restaurant together, a-and he decided to walk me home for protection.”

Haizaki frowned in confusion. Restaurant? Walking home? Protection? The elder man’s love affairs had gone a little differently from that, but he’s read enough of Furiha-sensei’s work to know that that sounds like a date. 

...Really? Furihata with Akashi? Haizaki took one last glare at Akashi, and felt a sense of… Not hate, but painful defiance. He's rich, smart, and he gets all the chicks and dudes? There's just something so fucked up about how lucky he is, especially how he doesn't know it--Haizaki tried not to groan when he thought about Akashi in middle school, he tried, but he might not have succeeded.

Akashi raised an eyebrow, but Haizaki successfully covered his annoyance up with a wayward glance.“I’m familiar with this area, so I’m afraid I shall interrupt your guy’s plans for the evening a bit.” He smirked, with an unenthusiasm uncharacteristic of him, “Sorry.”

“No apologies needed.” Akashi replied, “It’s our honour to have someone so familiar with the night scene on our side.”

Ya know, if Furihata wasn’t there Haizaki would have wished that the gang could beat the rich brat up. He might have even helped.

\---

For two people going on a date together, Furihata and Akashi sure don't look comfortable with each other. Of course, they liked each other. Haizaki can tell that Furihata was enamored with Akashi--anyone would be--and Akashi found Furihata pleasant and cute, but there was just something off about the way they interacted with each other: Furihata stiffened at just about every expression the redhead made, and large eyes looked a little too relieved when the redhead didn't say anything worthy of fear which was, if Haizaki had the right to comment, not very often--Akashi was very...careless in his conversation with Furihata, for lack of a better word. He didn't hesitate, seemingly speaking everything on his mind and expecting Furihata to be fine with all of it, or act nervous in the slightest. Yes, being confident is good, but Akashi was bordering on cocky.

In short, Furihata was being eager to please and Akashi was enjoying every second of it. There was so little conversation, and Haizaki had to try to make most of the conversation--Haizaki likes quiet more than anything, but he just can’t stand how this walk was going. 

“So, Akashi. What brings your majesty here to Tokyo?” he asked, trying hard to keep the annoyance out of his tone--he should be polite, for Furihata’s sake--”As far as I knew, you were living your high school life in Kyoto?”

Akashi sighed: “I’m surprised you know” He replied, “But yes, I was attending Rakuzan high school in Kyoto. I’m here because Shintarou called for a meeting, and here would be the most convenient location.”

Come on, Furihata, ask him what the meeting was about and initiate some conversation--Haizaki turned his head to face Furihata, but found him staring at a rock instead. Mentally groaning, Haizaki tried to sound interested as he faced Akashi again, “What was the meeting about?” He asked.

“Oh, nothing much. It was largely a reunion, but some others were there as well. For example, Furihata-kun.”

“A-ah, yes!” Furihata jumped in, clearly surprised at his name, “I-I was there.”

Haizaki deadpanned. You two went to the same reunion, and went on a date together, and you two still can’t strike up a conversation? Jeez, what the fuck were you two doing there, he wanted to ask. Directing his attention to Furihata this time, Haizaki fake-laughed. “How are my rainbowheaded kouhais doing?” He commented with forced cheer, “It’s been a while since I saw them--”

“I wasn’t aware that you thought of us as dear kouhais, Shougo.”

Haizaki didn’t. Haizaki hated them so much, and wanted to do nothing more than watch them each die a painful death. And Akashi Seijuurou here, Haizaki wanted to strangle himself. If it were up to him, Akashi Seijuurou would never be here, never see him again. But once again, this was not up to him.

This is for Furihata, he thought. Furihata was a good kid. Furihata did nothing wrong, he needed saving and some conversation going for him and his fate. The brunette boy proceeded to smile, and he lifted his head. And the cornrowed male had to smile because he looked so. Adorable. He proceeded to say something about Kise Ryouta, but Haizaki was only thinking about the way Furihata’s voice resonated against the buildings and into his eardrums because he looked so happy. 

Ya know, a part of his mind whispered, if he’s having this much trouble making conversation with Akashi, then maybe they’re not meant for each other. Look how relaxed he is with you, maybe you should--

Stop it. He doesn’t like you.

He doesn’t like Akashi either. He’s clearly scared of him.

Stop it. They look good together; they look like a couple. You, on the other hand, is a big pile of dog shit.

You have no proof that Furihata thinks that.

Shut. Up.

“Hey, guys. We’re getting close.” Furihata pointed at a townhouse that, if you squinted, looked like the brunette’s home in the daylight, “Do...either you guys want to go in?”

Akashi was looking at his phone, and Haizaki wasn’t really sure that any functioning mother would want to see him, of all people, with her son. At Furihata’s voice, they liftened their heads up, and both their eyes read a “let’s do this when we get there”. 

Furihata sighed. He walked opened the door, and a young girl, no more than 13 at least, greeted them. Haizaki guessed that this was one of Furihata’s younger sisters (According to rumors, he had two). She didn’t look a whole lot like her older brother, but they both had that pleasant air about them.

It’s the house, isn’t it?

Of course, the girl’s eyes first sparkled over to Akashi before narrowing them as she looked over Haizaki. 

Haizaki didn’t mind. She’s a girl, after all.

“So...I’m guessing you guys brought Kou-nii home?” She asked.

“Yes.”Akashi said.

“Yeah.”

Furihata was already moving in and taking off of his shoes. He signaled them to do the same. “Come on, Kokori, let them in for a bit.” He said to his sister, and she was about to move towards the kitchen when Akashi was the first to disappoint.” 

“I’m afraid that I have a prior commitment, so I can’t stay.” the redhead apologized, “even though this is a great honor and I would love to have tea with you and your family sometime else.”

Furihata sighed, and then turned to Haizaki. “I-I see.” He said understandingly, “What about you, Haizaki-kun?”

“S-same with me.” He answered, unexpectedly stuttering a bit. 

Why was that? Was there something in the back of his mind? Was something about this situation making him uncomfortable--no, he’s been through this tons of times.

“Are y-you sure?’’ Furihata protested, slightly, and Haizaki almost smiled.

“Yeah.” He said, and after Furihata looked at Akashi worriedly, he added. “I’ll bring Akashi to the train station, no worries.”

“That will be troubling you too much, Shougo.”

“You wanna get mugged again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...what did you think? I'm having a little problem with characterizing Haizaki and Akashi here--deepest apologies if they seem OOC or whatever. If you have any comments, criticisms, suggestions please don't be afraid to leave a review!
> 
> Thank you for reading my humble fanfiction!


	17. To be decided

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Here's another chapter! ^_^ 
> 
> This chapter doesn't have a lot of Furihata and fanboying, but I hope Haizaki's inner dialogues and the parents were enough to make up for it! Also, Furihata's confession is coming up soon (If not in next chapter, in the one after that)
> 
> Warning: Please don't hate Midorima after this. I'm not trying to make him a bad guy here

The Midorimas' house was smaller than the Akashis', and it was somewhat more quiet--a characteristic that was to be expected, since the Midorimas aren't as blue-blooded as the Akashis are and, therefore, aren't socially obligated to have servants running around--but it was no less luxurious and elegant.

The walls were painted a light, minty green, and works of the traditional Japanese art hangs upon them, the refreshing color oddly fitting against the aged white of the parchment; a baseboard of white alabaster runs about the periphery and sits haughtily above the smooth, meticulously vacuumed oak floor. Several environmentally friendly lightbulbs cast a pallid glow about everything and everyone in the house, from the corner to the ceiling, behind a round, translucent glass. However, this light fades as the visitor enters the family’s living room, where the fluorescent glare was replaced with a more environmentally-unfriendly, old-fashioned gold. Beneath this light, everything glows a bit softer than the rest of the house, from the cubical white couches to the similarly cuboidal white cabinets to the thin, LCD television.

Sitting beside a non-functional fireplace was a tall, green-haired man with short bangs. His name was Midorima Shinobu, and he was Midorima Shintarou's father.

Midorima Shinobu gently twirled the Jasmine tea in his newly-acquired porcelain teacup. Something reminiscent of a smile seeped through his green eyes as he looked at the present’s giver, Akashi Masaomi, who sat across from him at the table, in his pajamas already and smiling as well at the surprisingly long time it took for a reunion between two best friends.

They met in college--Shinobu was studying Medicine, and Masaomi was studying business--Neither were really the sociable type, so they both spent a lot of time in the library studying and that's where they met. In the beginning, they simply sat next to each other at the same library table, but as they bumped into each other more and more on campus, they began to reluctantly say hello to each other. Eventually, they bonded over their mutual love of classical works and began to study for various exams together, even though they shared no classes.

Later, they became roommates and, to put it mildly, their friendship made them both better men. Shinobu was the first (and arguably only) friend Masaomi could trust and kept for longer than five years--Well, that wasn’t exactly true. After Shintarou and Seijuurou, respectively, were born, both men’s conversations fell sparse in favor of working and devoting time to their family. Nevertheless, both trusted each other for advice and open-armed encouragement.

It was by pure coincidence that their sons went to the same middle school and became best friends too, though.

“You've got yourself a nicely furnished abode here, Shinobu.” the shorter man remarked as his eyes scanned over the living room, “not a lot of furniture, but white and green--a very organized palette. A very lovely choice for a doctor.”

“I try to keep my living environment simple.” Shinobu responded, “Though I am afraid you must thank my wife for the cleanliness of this house. I am much too busy with patients these days to deal with matters of the house.”

Masaomi sipped his tea, and put the cup back on the table. “Ahh, Misaki.” He smiled, “How is she doing? I'm afraid I haven't seen her here today?”

“She and Sakura have gone back to her parents’ house for the weekend. Reasonable, considering that she hasn't seen them in about a year.”

“So this place is just you and Shintarou now? Are you sure you two would be able to survive on your own?”

Green eyes narrowed, and the taller male hissed: “Don't insult me, Akashi. I am more than capable of surviving. After how, how difficult can denaturing proteins to an edible degree be?”

"More than capable of surviving"... Masaomi begged to differ. If there's one thing he had came to learn about Shinobu over his college years, it's that the man was utterly useless in the kitchen to an almost talented degree--not everyone can burn down the house from boiling water and blame the pot for it. If Shintarou is anything like his father, he probably won't be anything of help, either--Misaki must have left the house to them only because she knew that Masaomi and Seijuurou would be here and that, though not great cooks themselves, they can prevent her husband and son from killing themselves.

“Oh Misaki, still as snarky as ever.”

“What did you say, Akashi?”

“Nothing you ought to worry about, Shinobu.”

The vein on Shinobu’s left eyelid jumped, ever-so-slightly, signifying his annoyance. However, the man eventually settled the issue with a sigh. He brought his teacup to his mouth and sipped the tepid liquid again. “How is Seijuurou?" He asked, "I haven't heard about him from you ever since…”

He paused and looked at his best friend with a bit of worry. 

Masaomi took a deep breath, closed his eyes briefly, and sighed, before replying with a shaky smile: “it's okay, Shinobu. It's been way too long for me to not get over Shiori’s death.”

“I know it was an incredibly difficult thing to overcome…”

“Yes.” Masaomi sighed again, “She kept this family running better than I could ever do, but I'm getting over it.”

“...Good.” Shinobu smiled, “because of you haven't done so after this many years, I would have to scream and bang you on the head for Seijuurou's sake.”

“I would sue you if you ever did that.”

“I wouldn't have cared about that, for I would then have proceeded to chop you up and feed you to dogs.”

Masaomi involuntarily scooted back at the dark look in Shinobu's eyes, and sent the chair tilting backwards in his endeavour. Eventually, the look faded, and Masaomi managed to utter “... My goodness, you have gotten...scarier over the years.”

“So have you, Mr. Too-Shy-To-Talk-To-Your-Future-wife. ” the elder Midorima chortled, no longer angry, “I suppose parenthood does that to people, Akashi. But seriously, how is Seijuurou doing? I know he didn't take his mother's death very kindly.”

"Oh, he is doing remarkably well. I think he had somewhat gotten over Shiori's death as well. His grades are lovely as always, and his basketball team is winning... Most of their games, I think."

"Shintarou had informed me that he and his team are here for a practice game."

"Seijuurou had said the same thing. Against whom are they playing?"

"Seirin high. The same school that your son lost against once, apparently."

"Oh? Is that the team with that boy with the cyan blue hair?"

"Yes. Apparently, he has such a low sense of presence--which makes utterly no sense considering that cyan blue is one of the most noticeable colors on the spectrum."

"Even more so than red?"

"I believe so."

"How quaint... I must witness this battle. Will you attend?"

“I think I should, since Shintarou is going as well. Though I must admit that I have never been particularly interested in sports, and never bothered to learn the rules of basketba--"

"Oh, by the way, I saw Seijuurou's picture of his middle school teammates in their current uniforms, and I must say that Shintarou looks hideous in Shuutoku's basketball uniform."

"You...!” Shinobu angrily sputtered, “I-I happen to think that Shintarou looks quite charming."

Masaomi blinked. His face remained mostly blank, but his tone was shocked, and just a little critical, as he replied matter-of-factly: "Shinobu, He looks like a carrot."

"W- well your son looks like a sundae with a cherry hat."

"Most people prefer sundaes over carrots, Shinobu."

"And I happen to prefer a healthier diet, Akashi."

"My goodness, Shinobu, are you suggesting that you will eat Shintarou up?"

"W-" Shinobu's mouth fell open to retort, but he fell short, and instead had to close his mouth with an angry expression. He politely coughed to hide his embarrassment as he leaned into the table. Subtly, he hissed: "... You have gotten sassier over the years, Akashi."

Masaomi grinned and lifted the porcelain teacup to his lips. "Having a teenage son that doesn't like your company a whole lot helps." He replied.

As he put his teacup down, the porcelain made a gentle clink against the glass on the table. Smiling, Shinobu lifted up his teacup as well. After the green-haired man put his drink down, Masaomi asked: “How is Shintarou doing? How is Shuutoku treating him?”

...And, unexpectedly, the other fell silent.

The shorter man internally quirked an eyebrow. He continued: “According to Seijuurou, they’re getting together for a meeting this afternoon--do you know what it is going to be about?”

Shinobu hesitated. Green eyes looked unfocusedly from one side to the other before their owner answered the other with a sigh. “With you, Akashi, I think I should to be honest…” He confessed, “I...haven’t quite been able to connect with him lately. I-In fact, I have never been good at communicating with my kids--perks of being a doctor, I guess--but I never felt it so horrifically until these days.”

“Shintarou’s...awfully quiet. It’s like he has a lot of problems that he’s not opening up about. Misaki’s really worried, and she’s better with kids but I don’t think she quite understands him the way I do--after all, he takes after me more than he takes after her--but I’m not good with words, and I don’t think I’m reaching him.”

“So he’s been a little quiet.” Masaomi nodded, “Teenagers are all like that--he’ll open up to you if he needs to.”

“I’m aware, Akashi.” Shinobu said, “but a father can’t help but worry. So I went into his room, ashamedly without his permission--”

“Shinobu.”

“Save me your lecture, Akashi--I know that’s not polite, but I just can’t help but feel something strange with him these days, and they say that a person’s room reflects him the most. So I looked around, and I found...I found.” 

The man took out his phone, quickly swiped and clicked a couple of times with his thumb, and handed the phone to Masaomi. Masaomi narrowed his eyes to study the object of Shinobu's horror, but they were quickly enlarged in shock.

It was a--rather large--collection of Furiha Kou’s works.

Shinobu coughed, before stating the obvious: “Yes, as you can see, it’s a large collection of mangas involving male homosexuality, and here are also” He swiped the screen, “some books about the topic, and,” He swiped to a picture of a screen, “Here is a picture of his internet history--him googling “Is homosexuality normal” and “why are some people homosexual”--”

"Jesus Christ" Masaomi muttered, before coughing and saying, “So Shintarou could be gay. Nothing too horrific for you to hear, am I right?”

“No, of course not! In fact, I had somewhat seen it coming since he was in middle school with Seijuurou...Point is, I will support him no matter who he is, because I did not give birth to a son only to dispose of him when he doesn’t fit my ideals.”

“...Lovely speech, but you never gave birth--”

“Overlook the minor details, Akashi.” Shinobu hissed, “But here is where I am horrified--Shintarou has a friend from his high school. Takao, I think his name was...Anyway, they were having a study session in Shintarou’s room, and I left a listening device in there--”

“Shinobu, what--”

“Overlook. The. Minor. Details. So, I accidentally recorded their conversation and listened to it. Shintarou was talking to Takao about his some of his insecurities and uncertainties, a-a-and…”

The green-haired man began to shake and tear.

“Shintarou mentioned someone that he is romantically interested in!”

Masaomi quickly reached forward to hold the falling male. “It’s okay, that happens.” He comforted, rubbing circles in the man's back “Shintarou has a good eye--whoever caught his fancy must be worthy of him.”

“B-but” Shinobu panicked, burying his face in his hands, “H-how are his mother and I supposed to decide whether the person is good for him, and guide him through relationship troubles? We were raised in the world of strong men and gentle women---How are what we know about romance going to apply with two males? I-is a dominant male desirable when the other party is male as well? I-is taking care of the check for a dinner date a positive sign of chivalry, or a snobbish act of demasculinization? Who would take charge in the relationship? Is adopting children good, or is it better to find a surrogate--”

“Shinobu, listen--”

“Oh my goodness, just think about the physical aspects I don’t know about! I’ve heard that homosexual men have intercourse through the anus, and that could lead to horrific infections for Shintarou--And the back pain! Men aren’t as flexible as women are, what if his back snaps? What if his future partner abuses him? Can he file rape charges and get protected by Japanese law? I-if they start a family together, can he get compensation if something happens to his child or his partner?”

Masaomi interrupted the elder Midorima's rant, because the man really would have gone insane--Midorima Shinobu is usually a calm and detached man, but whenever his family and children are concerned (especially Shintarou; Shinobu won’t admit it but Shintarou’s his favourite, probably because they greatly resemble each other and were born on the same day) he turns a bit...emotional, to put it lightly. "Shinobu, listen!” He exclaimed, “Honestly, the more you worry, the worse it’s going to be. Don’t worry, Shintarou is a smart boy.”

Shinobu breathed and, with a deep inhale and exhale, let go of his excitement and calmed down down. He raised his cup, frowning when he found that it was empty. As he poured more tea into it, he sighed, admitting: “I seem to have left an indelibly horrific negative upon my children, being a doctor and all. Shintarou is brilliant enough, I oughtn't worry, but it simply seems that he has no desire to acknowledge me as something more than a fearful authority figure and I don’t want that."

"Such things take time, Shintarou. Plus, he is just a teenager, and the day in which he'll understand you will come."

"You are correct, Akashi, and I am aware of that. I just do not understand how I could make him trust me more--I’ve tried to spend more time and effort on him, and to…’get’ him as a person, as them young ones say...but it just seems like he’s not getting closer, as if I had already abrogated any chance of getting close to my son...”

Masaomi opened his mouth to retort, but then shut it mid-air and fell pensive. Shinobu, seeing his friend’s reaction, fell silent too. The tall male leaned back and sighed:

“Perhaps I’m really an awful father.”

The nearby subway station beeped bopped with a myriad of colours, and faraway cars dashed from one brightly lit corner of the city into another brightly lit corner of the city before, finally, driving out of sight. Beyond the window, the city of concrete that was so tall and unwavering melted into a liquid of sound and colors at night. 

However, in the house, a nightly zephyr blowed across a slightly opened window, causing the blue lilies to wobble within their vase and some, hopefully, insignificant paper to flutter about the room. A tune that sounds like it came an out-of-use violin echoes throughout the room; acerbic, but still comforting somehow. The gold-eyed man sighed, his voice melting into the wind along with the clank of his empty teacup. Lifting the teapot to refill his cup as well, he softly laughed.

“My goodness,” He said, “it’s rather rude of you to call yourself a bad father when you have the paragon of horrific parenting sitting in front of you. I’ve done much worse, and my son practically sees me as the enemy. He might have gotten better, he might have not.”

“Perhaps, objectively, you really are a bad father. Going into his room without his permission, installing listening devices--I am fully aware that you are trying to do the best for him, but sometimes, you might want to try and let go. After all, Shintarou is a smart boy; all these things you mentioned, he could make decent judgments about on his own.”

“But once again, I don't have the right to say anything here, since I'm really not a better father than you are--I would say I’m worse, in fact. I think you are doing the right thing, really, by paying attention to your child. Perhaps your attention is a bit excessive, and perhaps Shintarou doesn’t need it; Perhaps he doesn’t want and need to talk to you, perhaps he thinks you don’t understand him--and he may be right--but at least you’re trying.”

“The me in the past...didn’t even try.”

Some nightclub’s horrible choice of music seeped through the walls, but, mixed with wind chimes and out of tune violins, it made a strangely comforting concoction, quiet yet lively at the same time. It reminded everyone that they are not alone in this world, that there’s always someone out there, either suffering the same way you do or willing to listen.

“Akashi.”

Shinobu looked up, eyes glowing behind his green--not yet graying--bangs. He placed his cup onto the table and looked straight forward into Masaomi’s eyes. Jade met gold, and the male eventually said, after a smile formed behind his eyes: “Don’t focus on the past, Akashi. You did what you did, and you can’t change it, but you are correcting your mistake and playing both parts of a role you’re not that great at in the first place.”

“Using your lovely style of talking--Perhaps Seijuurou will never talk to you again, perhaps he’ll never trust you again, perhaps he’ll never see you as a proper father figure again…But you are trying, just in case he does. That is plenty worthy of my respect, Akashi Masaomi.”

Both bursted out in a soft chuckle, and the wind chimes rang again with the passing of wind.

“Well, at least you found out about it before anything happened..” Masaomi chuckled, almost self-deprecatingly, “I found out about Seijuurou only after I bumped into several of his male bedmates.”

Shinobu’s eyes went wide. Surprised, he wondered: “Seijuurou is homosexual too?”

“Yes, apparently his sempai and another three of his teammates were, too.”

“...My god.” The green-haired men shook his head, “What kind of place is Teiko Middle School?”

The shorter man shrugged. “I guess it’s a place of miracles and rainbows.” he said with a hint of a smile playing on his lips, “but say, who is this man that Shintarou is interested in? I’m sure that you would know, given how devoted you are.”

“I’m afraid I do not know.” the elder Midorima said, frowning “All I know is that it’s “someone he’s long held affections for” and that he had “been too afraid to confront due to his status” and “other external circumstances”.”

Masaomi retrieved a plate of snacks from the fridge (pre-made, to his delight), and sat back into the chair. “Do you have any idea what these “external circumstances” could refer to?” He asked.

The taller man fell into ponderance. “Hmm…It’s definitely not something at home, so it must be someone at school.”

“You’ve mentioned that Takao is a friend at the high school, so since Shintarou did not elaborate Takao must be aware of the incident as well.” Masaomi said, “something in high school?”

“Are you thinking of an issue amongst the basketball team?” Shinobu queried, with knitted brow, “Well, he has been getting along with the sempais but he used the words “external circumstances” which would imply that it’s an external factor, like the teachers or something, that forced them apart. ”

“So high school is out, but it’s something Takao knows…Must be something really big in middle school then. After all, Teiko basketball was pretty famous.”

Shinobu closed his eyes, trying to rack his doctorate brain for signs. He eventually broke out: “...There might have been some external pressures on the team from the teachers and the press. Shintarou looked pretty down for a while, and that’s when he began shooting hoops like crazy.”

“Maybe the outside pressure got to them? Seijuurou wasn’t particularly pleasant these days as well.” Masaomi said. 

The elder Midorima’s eyes lit up.

“Yes! That is a plausible hypothesis! So Shintarou’s love interest is in the middle school basketball team!”

“Alright, since he invited Seijuurou, that must mean that person isn’t currently in Tokyo right now.” Masaomi deducted, “Since if he is in Tokyo as well, Shintarou wouldn’t need to call this meeting to see him!”

“Well deduced, Akashi. In fact, Shintarou asked me for dressing advice today, which would further support our hypothesis--He must have been trying to impress the astoundingly lucky love interest!” the elder Midorima added, his voice heightening, “If I remember correctly, the outside ones are…Murasakibara Atsushi and” His eyes went wide, “Akashi...Seijuurou…”

The place fell silent. Masaomi broke the silence:

“Is...Murasakibara Atsushi an impossible candidate for Shintarou’s love?”

“Shintarou hasn’t said a single positive thing about that boy since they met. Also, he said status. Murasakibara Atsushi is not high in social status, and neither is his family. Think, what has Seijuurou been all of his life, socially, academically, and in practically everything?”

“...The top…”

“Shintarou has a long-standing crush on Seijuurou, Akashi.” Midorima Shinobu whimpered, “I should have known better when he asked you guys to sleep over.”

\--

“Where are you, Akashi. Please get to the train station already, it’s late.” read the message on--you guessed it--Akashi Seijuurou’s phone next to the icon of a slightly displeased Midorima Shintarou. Having caught a quick look at the disgruntled message, Haizaki raised an eyebrow as he moved down the dimly lit street.“You and Glasses still as cozy as always, huh?” He asked, signaling to the pale glow of the phone, “What are you two, going back to his house together?”

Akashi stared at him, sent the green-haired male a quick reply, and turned to stare at him again.

“Actually.” The redheaded male answered, tone ever-so-politely pissed, “Yes, we are. I am staying at him house for the remainder of the visit. “

Don’t look at me like I actually want to talk to you little--both figuratively and literally--prick. Haizaki wanted to snark. But it’s a long way back, and it’s just plain awkward it they don’t at least make some sort of conversation. Eventually, he mustered an unenthusiastic “oh” and got back to putting one foot in front of the other in the dark alley. 

Akashi, however, continued to talk: “You know, Shougo, you genuinely don’t have to do this. I am more than capable of standing my own. I do believe that you witnessed me with these people, even though you made no move to help.”

Haizaki rolled his eyes. “And a guy would have knocked you out if Furihata didn’t throw a rock at him.” The cornrowed man uttered.

He pondered, and eventually decided to leave out the comment about how Furihata probably only got into that trouble because of his rich, arrogant ass.

How did he come to that conclusion, you ask? Well, even assholes don’t hit humble little chihuahuas that did nothing wrong. Furihata doesn’t look like the type to start trouble--he’s too cautious for that--and Akashi, well, looks like the type to make trouble wherever he goes. Honestly, if he had the chance to do so with no repercussions, Haizaki would punch Akashi as well.

But if Akashi Seijuurou wants to see himself as a hero, fine with Haizaki. He ain’t planning on seeing and talking to that redhead again, anyway.

Since he’s not going to see him again, though, maybe he should ask about something.

“How’s Nijimura?”

Their footsteps continued to echo in the dark, empty street. The short redhead continued to place one foot in front of the other beneath the golden light, didn’t even briefly pause to think as he lifted his damn eyes to squint at Haizaki. Ten or twenty steps had passed before the redhead actually managed to say: "Nijimura...Shuuzou?”

Haizaki groaned: “Of course it’s Nijimura Shuuzou, Akashi. Do you know any other Nijimuras?”

Heterochromic eyes glared at Haizaki. “I don’t” He hissed, “But it’s been a while since I’ve heard from Shuuzou, thank you very much.”

“He’s your bloody sempai, at least call him by his first name, brat.”

“Don’t call me a brat, Shougo.” Akashi snapped, “I have the freedom to refer to people however I desire.”

Haizaki snorted. “Looks like somebody’s father never taught him the platinum rule.” He snarked.

(He was actually going to say “mother”, but then he decided that the poor woman didn’t deserve to have shit talked about her after her death simply because she had an asshole son, who was mostly raised by her husband.)

(Poor guy, what did he do wrong?)

"You genuinely never talked to Nijimura again after graduation?” Haizaki repeated.

He kicked a little grey rock out of the way as he glued his eyes to the ground, for some reason trying so hard to not care about his words. Unfortunately, like a lot of things in his life, he failed, and his heart leaped when Akashi's voice rang beside him. 

“Shuuzou hasn’t contacted me, and I’ve been busy so I never talked to him.”

Boom, it crashed.“Even though you two were like that?”

“Like what, Shougo?” Akashi scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion, “He was simply an elder basketball player whose skill I respected, and I was simply a talented younger student. We worked together, that’s all.”

“Even though--”

“Oh.” Akashi crisply remarked, laughing a little in between, “You meant the fact that you saw us kissing after practice hours. Well, we actually engaged in a bit more than that, but none of that matters--after all, we were both curious young men that felt like experimenting.”

“It meant nothing to you.”

“No. Shuuzou wasn’t even the only one.” the redhead narrowed his eyes, “If I may ask, why does this matter to you, Shougo?”

“Why this matters to me?” Haizaki chuckled dryly, “Well, I think a better question would be why it didn’t matter to you, Mr. Akashi”

“What are you trying to say, Shougo?”

Haizaki snapped: “I’m saying that you’re a manwhore, Akashi. You are no less horrible than I am, but your precious generation of miracles always whispered things behind my back and only had praise for you. For some reason, you’re always the fucking hero and I’m just some douchebag even though we fucking. Did. the. Same. horrible. shit.”

“Excuse me?” Akashi pointedly hissed, stopping in his tracks this time, “I am not responsible for what my previous teammates say, and if they hurt your feelings, I apologize--”

“They hurt my feelings?” hearing this, the tall man’s head rolled back in an exaggerated, rambunctious laughter, “Oh, no, I could care less, I could seriously fucking care less what they think about me. Manwhore, asshole, dick, trash--whatever horrible shit they say about me, it's probably true since I'm a piece of shit and I know it. You're a piece of shit too, but you don't.”

“It's their own, collective decision to say what they said. Perhaps you were worthy of their ridicule, perhaps you were not. Either way, I'm afraid I fail to understand why you are directing this anger at me, Shougo--I would expect you to have more tact than that.”

Haizaki wanted to laugh like a madman--well, Akashi, he wanted to say, sorry for not living up to your expectations!

All through his life, Haizaki Shougo played the role of the antagonist. He was always the bad guy that got in the righteous protagonist’s way, and whatever he says and does, it's bound to be offensive, unreasonable, or plain stupid. But when the main character, like Akashi here, shows up and does the same shit, he's suddenly a charismatic and relatable idol. Haizaki befriends Furihata, he's a gangster looking for someone to bully; Akashi talks to Furihata, he's a prince on a white horse. Haizaki wants some alone time, he's a loner that'll shoot you; Akashi wants some alone time, it's perfectly normal. Haizaki has an emotional breakdown, people cheer because it's a glorious defeat; Akashi has an emotional breakdown, people rush to him because oh, what a heartbreaking tragedy.

Haizaki sleeps with someone he doesn't love, he's an ammoral thug; Akashi sleeps with someone he doesn't love, it's "experimenting".

Sometimes, he wonders if there's something about him, something on his face that said "villain". Maybe his whole life was planned before it even began. Maybe this is what god wanted him to be--a villain.

With that the conversation died, and the two males were, again, reduced to walking silently upon the street.

Inside Haizaki’s mind, though, there was nothing silent; a mess of emotions, memories, and words threatened to explode-- Anger, “how dare he”, kisses in an empty gym, him being kicked off of the team, “never mattered”, rage, vengeance--Akashi speedily walked in front of him, and Haizaki’s fist tightened as the back of Akashi’s head bounced tauntingly within his reach.

However, when he was going to bring down the fist and add just a little more red to the bastard’s already red hair, Nijimura’s face appeared, and Haizaki had no choice but to bring down his hand.

It was Nijimura’s choice. He knew what would happen, and he was fine with it. Haizaki had no right to interfere.

Memories of a familiar ache seem to prick the back of his head, and groundless tears appeared in his grey eyes. Realizing that, he wiped his tears--only losers and drama queens cried in public--and quickly caught up to the redhead. The shorter teen raised an eyebrow at the other's sudden reappearance by his side, but didn’t say much.

They continued to walk side-by-side without much conversation. Occasionally one or two cars passed by them, but let’s just say that most people were smart enough to not visit an unstable area late at night, so it’s really just them walking in this still, awkward night with Akashi’s phone that couldn’t seem to stop buzzing. As Akashi’s head occasionally bent down to write brief replies to Midorima, Haizaki felt a sense of loneliness sweep over him. Even though the redhead’s right by him, he was so alone because Akashi had someone to connect, albeit via a digital device, and he had no one. For a second, a craving for company overwhelmed the cornowed male. 

For a second, he just wants to feel a connection with someone for a change, even if that someone is his least person in the whole world.

And for a second, he was jealous of a cellphone.

But of course, it was only a second, because even though sticks, stones, and words could hurt him, loneliness never would. It protects him like an armor, never piercing him the same way it pierces other people.

“Shougo?”

Haizaki flipped his attention to Akashi, and found heterochromic eyes staring into his with worry, but also with that unmistakable vestige of amusement.

“What?” He gruffly responded. “Whatcha staring at?”

“That’s what I should be asking you.” Akashi said, “because you’re crying, Shougo---Haven’t you noticed that?”

The tall man lifted his hand to touch his cheek, and indeed, it was wet, and getting wetter every second. Shaking his head, Haizaki dried his cheeks as best as he could, and turned back to Akashi. “I don’t know, some bug flew into my eye or something.” He muttered, an alarmingly nasal tone permeating through much of his voice, “Ain’t no big deal.”

Akashi’s look didn’t change. He repeated his sentiment: “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Haizaki turned his head back, shielding the redhead from any other view of his face.

\---

The blinding white and the boisterousness of the train station contrasted a little too sharply against the scenery on the way here, and, to be honest, the lights and the crowds are making Haizaki a little faint here--He actually likes the solitudinal, concealing night better than this glare. He belongs there, unlike beneath these too-clean artificial lights where he can see himself bare and judged by late-night passengers and overworked staff.

"Do you want me to sit here and wait with you?" Haizaki asked as he slumped into a metal chair by the station, staring defiantly up into Akashi's gaze "Or are you meeting him in there?"

The redhead blankly looked at him before taking one last look at his cellphone and lifting his head back. "Shintarou said we're meeting here." He said, "So we can sit here, if you'd like."

Fine with him. Haizaki hummed a reply, and slouched a bit further into the chair. He looked up at the ceiling as the chair grazed against his spine--he concluded that subway chairs were not for slouching in--and wondered. Why the hell are there so many lights up there.

Akashi didn't bother to make conversation either, and the two just sat in peace. In awkward peace, he meant, because there's nothing conventionally peaceful about two people doing anything but looking into each other's eyes. Eventually, Midorima came.

"Akashi!" That pri--I mean Midorima's voice sounded especially unpleasant to Haizaki's ears as he hurried over, expensive shoes tip-tapping arrogantly on the white tiles. “are you okay?”

Akashi smiled that damn smile. “Yes I am.” He replied, turning over to Haizaki, “say thank you to Shougo, Shintarou.”

Oh, no. You don't need to say thank you to me. Haizaki wanted to say. A large luggage shuffled past them, and as it rolled by noisily, Midorima turned to face Haizaki. And there's that look, that look that Akashi had before, that everyone in the generation of miracles had--Midorima's was brief, but it pierces the sharpest.

Thank God he's not seeing them again.

Midorima and Haizaki gave each other a polite nod, and quickly took their individual ways. Well, Midorima and Akashi were going the same way. Haizaki wasn't.

\--

“So why did Haizaki, of all people, accompany you here?”

Midorima asked after he entered their subway car, a soft “beep” sounding behind him among the chattering crowd of people. Akashi shrugged.

“He volunteered.” He said, “for what reason, I don't understand--he certainly does not like me too much.”

“Haizaki Shougo doesn't like anyone.” Midorima said, “You remember him in middle school, don't you? He never talked to anyone, and when he did he couldn't speak three words without insulting the unfortunate individual. You should be honored that he doesn't like you, Akashi; that means you are a decent human being.”

“Hmm. You words are not without reason, Shintarou.”

Both holding onto something within the car, the two's conversation faded into peaceful silence. Not a single person raised their head as the light, robotic voice pleasantly announced the closing of the doors. When the doors closed and the subway car, subsequently, moved, a couple of its standing passengers were momentarily set aback by inertia--including Akashi, who was standing by Midorima--but they then regained their balance, and resumed their normal activities beneath the cool fluorescent light.

As the car continued to move toward its destination, the two teens continue to coexist in this mute tranquility. They simultaneously looked out the large glass window nearby, and observed as the outside view faded from darkness into… Well, darkness, but a darkness with stars and traffic lights.

Akashi squinted, trying to find where he had dropped Furihata off and wondering if he could see it from where he was standing.

He couldn’t.

The redhead sighed and decided to capitulate. He turned back toward Midorima, and asked: “So what were you going to talk to me about, Shintarou?”

Midorima sharply lifted his head at Akashi's words, and his eyes seemed to genuinely widen in surprise--what in the world, weren't you the one who was all mysterious about something--as he stammered: “u-uh, about that… How about I, uh, tell you after we get off?”

“Is this about some sort of a family crisis or other sensitive information?”

“N-no, not really. It's personal, that's all.”

Akashi looked around the not-too-crowded, but not-particularly-sparse car, and noted that there were no acquaintances of theirs within earshot. Those passengers that were within earshot all had headphones on, or were too engrossed in their social media to care about anything two random teenagers talk about. 

“It's okay, Shintarou, no one is listening.” He affirmed.

Shintarou closed his eyes. He took a big breath. His eyes looked away from him. Then, his head turned away from him. Eventually, his whole upper torso turned to hide his face that was turning redder by the second. “I thought this was going to be easier, Akashi.” The green- haired male grumbled behind his body, “I had practiced conveying this sentiment to you many-a-times, but I suppose when it comes to the actual declaration, I still fall short.”

“What are you talking about, Shinta--”

“You see, Akashi, Ever since we were in middle school, I have admired you. You were intelligent, charismatic, and perfect. You have underwent some difficulties, but you have managed to overcome them and come out a better version of yourself."

“Alright.”

“A-a-and, uh...I think that's incredibly amazing of you. I... I really, really find that a-a-a-attractive. I-in fact, I personally find e-everything about you a-a-a-attractive.”

Akashi blinked rapidly in mild disbelief, and he began: “Shintarou, are you con--”

Poor Shintarou wasn't even looking at the object of his affections anymore when he proclaimed his message:“So I am, hereby, formally and informally, asking you out!” 

The green-haired male sputtered out, blushing to an almost unhealthy degree as his hands shakily grabbed,and ungrabbed the metal bar. 

"-fessing to me." The redhead finished the sentence.

The train pulled into one of it's interim stops, and a couple individuals that were sitting in front of them rose from their seats and descended the train. Voicelessly, Akashi moved to occupy those vacant seats. Seeing Midorima's hesitation, he motioned the man to sit beside him. 

As his companion sat beside him, his jade eyes questioningly glanced at Akashi, and the redhead's mind reeled from the reality of the situation, just a little. Midorima Shintarou likes him, romantically? In retrospect, he had seen the signs, but Shintarou's just not someone that one would simply consider that way. To him, Shintarou's a true friend, an intelligent soul with a strive for excellence--it would be difficult for Akashi to see him as anything else.

But they were similar: similar backgrounds, similar ideals, similar intelligences and worldview. They would collaborate well with each other, and a romantic relationship would be, realistically, beneficial for both of them; Like how Reo and Chihiro took on each other's traits, perhaps he could take on Midorima's perfect shots and calmness, and Midorima could learn a thing or two from him?

"...Well." He said, after a little bit of thinking, "I must admit that I was rather surprised by your sudden proclamation, but--"

"But?"

"But I find your proposal charming, endearingly so." Akashi smiled, "So I shall accept it, Midorima Shintarou."

"h-huh. Oh"

His grin grew wider with amusement, and an odd sense of satisfaction washed over him as Shintarou blinked, and blinked again before his green eyes went wide in seeming disbelief and shock. The taller man actually jumped back and unfortunately hit his head upon a pole before he actually had enough courage to turn back and face Akashi with a flushed expression. "W-well." He stuttered, hiding his excitement by fixing his glasses, "T-that's lovely. That means I-I suppose I succeeded?"

Akashi chuckled: "Yes, you did, Shintarou."

He then reached over to grab Shintarou's hand and lace it with his. They spent the rest of the trip like that, hand in hand. 

So he found a new partner, Akashi mused, and as far as he knew, they would be remarkably compatible with each other. Shintarou isn't hard on the eyes, either, though a bit too tall for him to take charge. Ahh well, plenty of short people take charge of their relationships. His father would probably approve of their relationship too. 

Everything about this relationship looked great.

But why did Furihata Kouki's face pop up in his head at the last minute?

Ahh well.

\--

"I don't approve of this!" Masaomi sobbed as he pranced around the room, "My best friend's son and my son? They'll copulate and we'll have to be each other's in-laws? No no no I don't approve."

He turned his golden eyes to Shinobu, and drew his eyebrows down: "There's a chance that Shintarou wouldn't confess, or Seijuurou wouldn't say yes, right?" 

Shinobu sat stressfully on his couch, stuffing his face with his lucky item of the day--green cherry pies (don't ask how or where he got them, Masaomi don't want to know)-- as he numbly half-answered, and half-repeated to himself: "Yes. Yes. Yes. Shintarou and Seijuurou wouldn't end up together, they wouldn't. Seijuurou would reject Shintarou, and he would get together with someone else. We'll all be happy, and there will be no relationship drama between Akashi and I. It's not cancer's lucky day today, and Shintarou won't succeed in his endeavor, and Seijuurou would reject him. Yes, that's how it's going to be."

"I can't believe you still believe in Lucky items, Shinobu."

"Shut up!" Shinobu glared at his best friend, "Oha Asa is the compass of fate and fortune, and mortals shan't disobey its most truthful advice!"

"Please tell me you didn't teach Shintarou about this."

"Why wouldn't I?"

Masaomi groaned as he fell back into the kitchen table, wincing when a corner nudged him in the ribs. "It's a little disturbing how much your son resembles you, in comparison to how little my son resembles me." He commented as he sighed, "Two tall, green-haired men who wear glasses and has an astounding love for medicine and Oha Asa. Are you kidding me?"

Shinobu lifted his head, and stared. "Are you insinuating that you don't resemble Seijuurou?" He asked, incredulous, "You two resemble each other a lot, Akashi."

"How?"

Shinobu started, but words stopped when a vibration interrupted him. Both men looked in the direction of the sound, and there it was, Shinobu's cellphone on the table. The vibration went on as both men in the room turned their heads to look at each other.

Masaomi nodded when Shinobu took a hold of it. The green-haired man slid a pattern, and his eyes went wide open. "It's from Shintarou." He whispered.

"What does it say?" Masaomi asked, voice low as well.

Shinobu read the message and just about turned into Stone. The elder Akashi panicked, and went to shake him, during which the cellphone fell out of its owners hand and landed face upward on the sofa:

"Father. As of today, Akashi Seijuurou and I will be in a romantic relationship. I know you know why I'm sending you this message."

"Shinobu!" Masaomi cried, "wake up!"

Shinobu sobbed: "Shintarou...Why...Why do you do this to you father...Why"

Masaomi sighed. Well, all's done is done. "You know, it might not be that bad." He said comfortingly, "Seijuurou and Shintarou might actually get along really well with each other, and we'll be best friends and best in-laws--won't that be nice?"

"Yes...I suppose there's some logic in your words, but I can't shake the feeling that they aren't good with each other, and that one of them would irrepairably hurt the other before their relationship comes to an awful end."

Masaomi couldn't give a good reply to that, because, for some reason, he felt the same way.

\--

"I don't accept this!" Koneko's voice rang from across the retriever, "So let me get this straight--Akashi Seijuurou walks you home, beats up thugs for you, and you leave without confessing?"

Furihata laughed with a little bit of chagrin; why did he tell Koneko this, of all people? "He doesn't mean anything by it." Furihata replied, retrieving another letter from his mailbox, "He was just being nice."

"Sure." Koneko was actually rolling her eyes over the telephone, "Suuuure, Furi. A guy walks another guy home just to be nice. Suuuure."

"No! Akashi's a gentleman, that's all!"

"If he's a gentleman, then he should know what this means!" she exasperated, "It's about what he wants you to think, you walnut! Based on what I heard, he's flirting with you, he's showing you that he's a gentleman, and he's acting like a hero in front of you--you should know what that adds up to!"

"B-but."

"No buts." She commanded over the telephone, "Akashi Seijuurou is obviously into you, and you are confessing to him. Now."

"But I've only just met him!"

"Shh--if you don't confess to him now, someone will get before you and steal him!"

"O-okay." Furihata stuttered. He pressed the end call button on his cellphone, and slide it back into his pocket along with his copious amount of fanmail.

Confessing to him before someone else does, huh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh...I feel like I'm going to get royally slaughtered by AkaFuris after this chapter...
> 
> If you have any criticism, comments, or suggestions, please don't be afraid to leave a review!


	18. Rapid Heartbeats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said that I'll try to do weekly but I ended up doing a little more than Biweekly--I just can't seem to catch a break. I now have 10 hr internships and countless articles to read and forgive me if the writing in not up to par--most of the words are written at 12 or 1, so don't expect anything, okay ^_^
> 
> Well, it's long if it meant anything!

"My dear Furiha-sensei:

My goodness; it would seem that I have rendered you profoundly humiliated with my feeble attempt at humor and sass, sensei. For that please do accept my deepest, most humble apologies--do believe me when I say that my own response to my initial letter could not contain even be a quarter of yours in politeness and eloquence--and, regardless of how "sassy" and "impolite" they may seem to you, I very much treasure each and every one of your replies. I sincerely pray that you would not cease communication with me due to my initial rudeness. If you desire to make as if our initial correspondence had never existed, I am not unhappy to oblige, sensei, for I refuse, simply refuse, to have such an ungrammatical piece of writing contribute to your initial impression of me.

So yes, we can pretend that none of the antecedent events had happened and begin with a fresh start. Before I proceed to the rest of my letter, however, please allow me to apologize for the long wait you had to endure; I'm afraid that I was out of town with some business and therefore didn't have the time to formulate a proper reply until some time later.

I shall address those queries that you have. After all, it is only fair for me to answer them given how much I had learned about you. However, I do expect you to return the favor, my dear sensei, and I do expect to learn much more about you than I already have.

First of all, yes, indeed, I am attending Rakuzan high school. I shall also concur that Kyoto is a lovely city; as you have so beautifully said, the tangible scenery, exempli gratia the temples and the cherry trees, are quite charming this time of year--I often amble about my backyard for some much-needed solitude after a vigorous day to admire the shiftless reawakening of mother nature this spring--but I must add that the city's air and culture are no less worthy of adulation that its physical beauty and tourist attractions. 

As a matter of fact, I had attended middle school in Tokyo before coming to Rakuzan, and since you currently take residence there, I shall presume that you are familiar with the city's fast pace and technological wonder. In sharp, brilliant contrast to that, Kyoto is a city that boasts of rich history and slow-paced appreciation of beauty; it is truly a place where you not only can, but you truly have to decelerate to enjoy life to the fullest. 

(To be honest, I find it quite ironic that such a competitive and cutthroat school like Rakuzan is located here.)

I personally think that to appreciate all of a city's beauty, you are obliged to live in it and peruse the parts of its streets that are not known to many. When you arrive for the Yaoi Con, I do sincerely hope that you would stay awhile in Kyoto to further comprehend the meaning of my words here before returning to your bustling life in Tokyo.

But it appears that this cannot be the case, since you are still a student. Speaking of this matter: How you could be such a gifted artist while being no more than a high schooler in age is something I simply could not fathom--you are quite mature in your style, sensei, a stranger would have put you at thirty years or older--but, forgive me for my imprudence, I am merely curious: Why would you choose this line of work while you are a high schooler? As far as my experience would suggest, high school is quite a stressful period with little to no free time for much and--please pardon the unbecoming assumption--drawing homosexual intercourse is not something I would expect to be an ordinary high schooler's dream job.

But once again, I reckon that you are no ordinary high school boy, sensei. I am ultimately ecstatic that you found the right place for your talent, for it would be quite the tragedy if it had gone to waste.

You asked me "How I got into Yaoi", and I ought to tell you that it's quite an interesting tale, to be modest. And no, it had nothing to do with my "girlfriend", since I don't have one, and don’t ever intend to. 

I was introduced to Yaoi through my father. You see, he is one of the sponsors of the Kyoto Yaoi Con, and he made me do some "research" on some of the artists that were going to attend, of which you were one of. When I had the honour of coming upon your work, I was immediately enamoured, and I simply couldn't wait until the time of the convention to convey my adoration for you. You are the first and only author whose work I took personal enjoyment in partly because yes, the generation of miracles is one gargantuan ball of homosexual tensions, as I see a tad too well.

Regarding your concern--I shall repeat this again and hope you do not self-deprecatingly bring up the topic again--There is absolutely nothing wrong with converting the mundane details of life into an artistic creation. Anyone who would disagree must be utterly, ignorantly stupid.

So now that I had addressed all of your concerns, let me present mine: How did you get into Yaoi, Sensei? Why, of all the genres, did you pursue this remarkably quirky and niche market? Is it because of your sexuality, your girlfriend, or some other thing? What are some other things you take pleasure in, besides drawing? 

I do expect all of these harmless questions to be answered, sensei. I want to appreciate you as not just an artist, but a person.

Love,  
Red.

P.S.: I am honoured that you find my original style of writing elegant and charming. Currently, I'm certain that I will not publish anything, considering that I am very much occupied with other matters concerning my education, but I am nonetheless happy to hear you suggest the option. "

 

❤️

Kouki finished the letter, subconsciously grinning as he folded the piece of paper into half and then into quarters. Deft hands slid the letter into his backpack as a good luck charm, while his eyes, again, looked out the open window. 

It's still early in morning, and there were not many on the streets aside from tiny, hardworking shopkeepers opening their establishments. As usual, the sporadic tweeting of birds enveloped his senses and colored the world a pleasant hue, but it's clear that the weather’s not particularly lovely today. Rainclouds, like saturated cotton balls, covered a grey sky and placed a thick covering over the typically blinding sun. They floated ominously about like gangsters, threatening to rain on countless parades in their expansion to unforeseeable horizons. 

Perhaps someone could say that it’s pleasant to not feel hot for a change, and Kouki would agree, but…

Isn’t this weather kinda, say, unlucky-looking for the day of a practice game?

He sighed and smiled again as he thought about his newfound penpal. Ahh, so Red is actually gay and attending Rakuzan. Furihata wondered if he knew Akashi--judging from his tone and the fact that his backyard was large enough for him to “amble about” in and to contain the scenery he described, Red was probably rich like Akashi was.

Say, why did he go with “Red” as his pseudonym? Does the color hold some significance to him? Is it his favorite color? The color or his eyes? The color of his hair? Is “Aka” a nickname someone addresses him as? Furihata looked out the window some more, still sitting on the soft, old coffee couch as his half-asleep brain went lethargically wild. 

He snorted, almost drunkenly, as he thought up a possibility: ”Red” wouldn’t happen to be Akashi, would it? It fits--”Aka” is in his name, he has red hair, and, judging from what he heard from Kuroko, he liked the color. 

Oh my god, that would be such a dramatic plotline. We have your typical sad, nerdy yaoi artist who’s pining for the hottest guy in Japan and goes on and on about never being able to be with him, but then we have said hottest guy being so gay and loving Yaoi and loving his work. They became best buds via letters, and both of them grew to love each other but just refuse to believe it even though it’s so obvious--

“No no no no no way,” Furihata laughed to himself, “Red didn’t mention anything about our meeting at the Maji Burger’s last week, and he expressed nothing but support for me.” Plus, there’s plenty of guys with “Aka” in their names and have red hair, what are the chances that it’s going to be his “Aka” with red hair? This isn’t a manga, Furi--things don’t work that way in real life.

It would be a lovely plot, though. Maybe he’ll save it for later and just kinda daydream about it.

The pot of porridge he had been cooking boiled on the stove behind him and brought his attention back to the present. Kouki sighed as he closed the window and briefly checked everything in his backpack before hurrying to tend to the stove.

 

❤️

“Akashi”.

Seijuurou turned lethargically in his bed.

“Akashi.”

The redhead lethargically flipped to the other side.

Midorima Shintarou groaned beside him. With a huff, the green-haired male crossed his arms and impatiently hissed again: “Akashi, we have to wake up now. I have school, and you--well, get up so we can eat breakfast together.”

Jesus Christ, Why the bloody hell can’t Shintarou understand that he didn’t want to move! Face down in the pillow, Akashi half-hissed, half-muttered: “I went to sleep late last night, Shintarou.” he yawned against the soft surface, “Let me sleep for now, and I’ll meet you up for lunch, how about that?”

And after that the younger Akashi, quite frankly, couldn’t give a damn about whatever Shintarou’s going to say, stubbornly tuning out the other’s words as he slipped back to the pleasant realm of dreams, drifted further and further before he jolted at a harsh poke to his ribs.

“It’s your own fault for staying up late!” Shintarou yelled, “You knew we had to get up early today and that I wanted to walk to school with you.”

Angry green eyes came into meeting with sleepy, but nevertheless pissed heterochromatic ones, and the redhead felt annoyance rise up in him, threatening to bubble and take him over. He glared at his enemy of the moment (Shintarou) and hissed: “I had a bloody practice game to plan for, Shintarou. Are you going to fault me for caring about my team?”

“W-well you should have done that earlier--”

“Well then, I apologize.”

Midorima opened his mouth to retort, but at Akashi’s harsh glare, he bit his lips and stood up. Eventually, he walked to the door, put a left hand on the door handle, and turned his head to look at the short male on the bed one last time before grabbing a towel and walking to the nearest bathroom to take a shower. 

After the door shut, the redhead rubbed his temples and groaned. Akashi Seijuurou hated mornings--Midorima Shintarou knew that, but still woke him up--he’ll admit that maybe he was a little harsh, but Shintarou would understand that he hated mornings and wouldn’t fault him. Maybe one day he would learn to let Akashi mind his own business.

Well, guess it’s time to get ready for the long day since he’s awake now. All of the other Rakuzan members found lodging in Tokyo as well (Kotarou became friends with a Shuutoku third year that let him stay in his dorm for a couple days, Nebuya had an aunt here, and Chihiro, along with Reo, found a nice little hotel to stay for the week at a cheap price--something about discounts for old customers--and was decently close to Seirin), so maybe he could gather them together to do some last minute training? 

While contemplating his options, Seijuurou threw open his trunk and picked out a random outfit that he knew for a fact he would look good in. The pale youth slid off his pajama shirt to put said outfit on, but then looked in the direction of the door. And thought maybe he should take a shower, too. 

Sighing, he put his pajama shirt back on and opened the door. He gently let the wooden board fall to its previous location with a soft creak, and after that, smoothly sailed toward a shower he could. His slippers quietly moved across the wooden floor, which was bespeckled by the morning sun as he raised a hand to shield himself. Then, he saw a something, or someone familiar.

Akashi Masaomi was completely dressed, his hair suitably straightened and his whole persona looking ready to go in a casual suit. Judging from his getup, the elder man was probably preparing to attend a business breakfast. Upon seeing his son, he paused in his steps, and his eyes stilled. Before they went wide. 

“Hello Seijuurou.” He said, and when Seijuurou tried to return with a similarly polite greeting, Masaomi didn’t let him. “Wait, didn’t Shintarou came out of the same room?”

Ah. “Yes he did, father.” Seijuurou replied. And cue the overreaction. Three, two, one--

“Eh?! Did you two not only recognize the existence of your relationship yesterday? This is a tad too early to consummat--”

“Father.” Seijuurou groaned, “We slept in the same room, that is all. I slept on the bed, and Shintarou slept in a futon on his floor.”

The elder Akashi blinked, and blinked again before his eyes narrowed suspiciously. Seijuurou did the same, and Gold stared into similarly narrowed heterochrome, before Masaomi finally sighed and straightened up his suit. “Don’t do anything horrible, Seijuurou. ” He warned as he began walking again.

And Seijuurou rolled his eyes. “Why do you assume that I slept with Shintarou on the first day we’re going out, father?”

Masaomi was moving forward when, at his son’s voice, he paused and subsequently turned back to stare at him with a critical gaze. It was awkward, but after a bit of silence, he finally replied.

“...You haven’t been exactly...kind in your past endeavors, Seijuurou. Just making sure you don’t do things that you would regret later.”

“What are some of these “things that I might regret later”?”

“Well, you know. Hurting Shintarou, using him for entertainment or other matters.” Masaomi said. And just like that, his father was swiftly walking off and leaving Seijuurou behind with a strange feeling on his tongue. For a second, the younger stared at nothing, but then he turned back. Words came out of his mouth, so quick that he couldn’t process them: 

“You know a lot about me even though you haven’t talked to me until this year?”

Masaomi rotated his head backwards and took one last glance, before moving forward again.. “I know a lot more about you than you think I do, Seijuurou.” He states, voice echoing about the room as he walked toward his destination, the door, “If you want to convince me that you won’t be horrible to Shintarou, prove it to me.” 

Slowly, one step by one step, the elder Akashi moved away from his son. And as his father’s figure walked away from his view, thousands of words and sentiments and questions that the younger Akashi wanted to vocalize bubbled up in him.

However, none of these things came out out his mouth. 

A opening and closing of the door was heard. Shaking his head, Seijuurou let out a breath (that he didn’t know he was holding) and continued to walk toward the shower.

❤️

Wearing the black and blue Seirin uniform, Furihata Kouki stepped out of his house and waved goodbye to his sisters from across the road. After making sure, again, that he had his basketball uniform in his backpack ready to go, the brunette boy set out on the busy street. 

As he moved down the crowd, a voice called out to him:

“Furi!”

Furihata paused next to a crowded breakfast shop and immediately smiled at the voice that had come to be familiar to him. 

“Kagami!” He cheerily called back, “I’m here!”

As the tall redhead ran up behind him and hovered his head over the small brunette, Furihata leaned his head back to look up into Kagami’s way-too-bright smile. For a second, he was nervous--they haven’t talked much after the meeting at Maji Burger, and neither of them brought up the issue of, you know, Furihata drawing gay porn based off of their mutual acquaintances. However, the brunette boy quickly realized that Kagami didn’t seem to care or want to make a big deal of it, and he couldn’t be more grateful. 

Instead, they spent these couple of days getting to know each other and talking about school and basketball. Today, underneath the tiger’s dark red eyes, there were undeniable dark circles and eyebags. Seeing this, Furihata’s expression faded from a grin into a frown. 

“Kagami.” He scolded, “You didn’t sleep again, did you!”

At that, Kagami pulled back and scratched his head. His expression was angry-looking--to outsiders, that is---“H-hey!” He barked defensively, “I-I-I was only excited about defeating that red-haired midget!”

Furihata’s eyes went wide. “Don’t call Akashi a midget!” He cried, “It’s not nice.”

A couple of old ladies nodded behind him, even though they had no idea what the conversation was about. One of them even glared at Kagami distastefully for...offending their precious Furi, Furihata guessed. Anyway, Kagami puffed his cheeks childishly and turned his head toward the other direction. “He’s short”. He pouted.

“Don’t look down on someone just because of his height!”

“I’m not! The dude slashed scissors across my face, ankle-broke me three times, a-and he scared you shitless, Furi! His height is just something that adds more to his scariness!”

“173 cm isn’t even that short, Kagami.”

“What?” Kagami pshhed, “It’s pathetically short, Furi! Come on, all that big talk and he’s no taller than a 12 year old?”

Furihata’s eyes pointed downward in shame, finally, he muttered: “Kagami, I’m only 170 cm tall…”

...

Both of them grew silent. Furihata continued to point his head downward as his foot sailed silently across the concrete, and Kagami did the same. They made their way down half a block when they arrived at a crossing and the taller redhead suddenly lifted his head. He beamed, as if an idea had suddenly come to him, as he confidently declared: “You are 170cm, but you're not the one claiming you're absolute, Furi!”

He looked a little too proud of that retort. Furihata can't help but smile.

“Well, I guess I can't argue with that.”

“Then don't.” Kagami huffed, “why are you defending him? Didn't he scare the crap out of you, too?”

Yeah… Why is Furihata defending him? Why doesn't he like it when other people belittle Akashi? After all, it isn't like Akashi Seijuurou actually needed to be defended by Furihata Kouki, of all people--the redhead was great enough that no one could possibly even seriously insinuate that he wasn't capable (Kagami Taiga was probably just bitter that his face got a bit ruined)...

Furihata decided that it was because he was a nice person.

“You know, I don't think you can just call a person “absolute”... It's usually “absolute” --something, isn't it?”

“Hmm, now that you mention it, Furi, that's not wrong.”

“So is Akashi Seijuurou the absolute...shortest of the GoM?”

Kagami choked on his spit.

“Furi!” He warned, “You’re gonna get punched for that.”

Furihata chuckled: “He doesn’t need to know that, does he?”

“Oh, and the shortest is actually Kuroko.”

“Well, we can’t see him half the time so that leaves Akashi.”

❤️

His rather tiny posterior rested in a ultra-modern kitchen chair, the younger Akashi prodded his...fried rice--or at least that’s what he thinks the black, greasy mush was supposed to be--disinterestedly, mind still thinking about his conversation with Akashi Masaomi. 

You’ll never hear Seijuurou admit this out loud, and the redhead couldn’t understand why he felt this way, but when his father disapproved of him, of his relationship with Shintarou and immediately assumed that he would do unsightly things to the other, the words hurt. 

It torn, it peeled, it hurt. For some reason, even though Seijuurou told himself countless times that he didn’t care, being anything less than perfect to his father left an uncomfortable, lifeless hole in him. It made him feel incomplete, worthless, and plain out wrong. His father’s words mattered to him, and not just because of the monetary benefits that came with it.

“Akashi.” Shintarou whispered to him, seated in a similar white ultra-modern chair, and Akashi blinked, before refocusing his attention on the current situation. 

As the redhead fluttered his eyelids open again, the first thing he caught was his boyfriend’s worried gaze; Jade green eyes clearly inquired “Are you okay?”, even though his lips didn’t say anything. 

Akashi smiled as a reply. That, however, didn’t permanently satisfy the future doctor. 

The younger Midorima’s eyes softened a little bit, right before they bounced back to their previous worry with a bit of extra inquisitivity thrown in there. They asked: “What is it?”, and Akashi ignored it, hopefully signaling that it was no big deal and he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Cough.” Midorima Shinobu said.

Both teens flipped their heads to the man sitting across from them, Midorima Shinobu (AKA the person who prepared this shi--I mean, wonderf--nah, I shouldn’t like--shitty meal) who was at this time staring at them cross-armed with a half-judgmental, half-annoyed expression. He narrowed his eyes at the two, before they drew down to the food and nudged his head forward. 

“Eat.” The elder Midorima said, and Shintarou visibly winced.

“Didn’t mom prepare meals for us?”

“Well, Shintarou. I wanted to make a special meal for us three to celebrate your achievement.” He replied, and the edges of his lips tugged up into a grin as he switched to addressing his son’s boyfriend instead, “Please, Seijuurou-kun. Do feast yourself upon my humble cooking. I made this meal especially for you, after all.”

Akashi looked down at the ashened stones, and then up to the elder Midorima. 

He looked down again, and lifted his head up to face judgmental green eyes.

One more time.

And Seijuurou stood up, grabbed Shintarou’s hand, and got the hell out of Midorima’s house. He muttered a quick “No thanks.”, before he dashed out of the door. As he moved, he quietly huffed: “With all due respect, I think your father loathes my existence, Shintarou.” 

Shintarou tried not to roll his eyes--Seijuurou could tell, he knew him long enough--and he snarked: “He’s just overprotective and thinks that you will abuse me for some reason”

Akashi laughed. “Fathers think alike, don’t they?”

After they got out of Midorima’s house, Akashi suggested that they should walk home together. However, Midorima’s first reaction was to turn his head towards the front of his house. He remained in that peculiar position for a sizable minute as he stares, as if hesitantly expecting something. Akashi stood beside him, and his eyebrows twisted together in confusion. 

Eventually, the shorter broke out: “Are you expecting someone, Shintarou?”

Midorima, surprisingly, seemed to be shaken out of a wonder. He froze at the question, looked on for a bit more, and, finally, after looking a little sad, he replied: “Takao usually comes by at this time.”

“Oh. To pick you up in a rickshaw?”

“Y-you!” Midorima flushed, “I-I-It’s an agreement we both agreed to abide by.”

Lies. The redhead thought, Like I don’t know that Takao carries you in a rickshaw everyday with lucky items and that you never do the same. How can you call it an agreement if it’s only one person? 

Well, Midorima is always winning (curtesy of his teachings), so Akashi supposes that excused it. Tidying his shirt, the redhead looked at the same spot that the green-haired man had a second ago. “Then where is he?” He asked, “I would very much like to meet him and talk to him personally.”

And...that brought Midorima’s mood down. Akashi watched as the vibrance in green eyes faded and the taller started to walk on the sidewalk with a sigh. Quickly, Akashi followed him and caught up by his side. He asked: “Is there something wrong with you and Takao?”

A quick reply. “Nothing, Akashi.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

No, Midorima’s lying. Akashi knows that much. He forcefully grabbed the taller’s left wrist, and turned him so that Green eyes were forced to look into heterochromic. As Midorima’s eyes widened, Akashi repeated: “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I told you there’s nothi--”

“Shintarou, don’t lie to me.”

The tall man shook at that last sentence, and eventually almost broke out in a sob. He turned his head back to walk toward the convenience shop, but he mumbled something; Akashi moved closer to more clearly hear it. 

“Takao just all of a sudden didn’t want to talk to me anymore--did I do something wrong?” Akashi slowly said, repeating what he heard from Midorima’s half-sobbing rant. At that, the green-haired man nodded, and tears bounced off of his face. Akashi sighed.

“Well, maybe he just got sick of you always sitting while he pulled.” He said, trying to be comforting, “Maybe he got a little tired of always having to please you? After all, you can be a little tiring to be with.”

“I-I’m tiring to be with?”

“A little. “I mean, you just about know nothing socially--not that that’s an irrepairable mistake, Shintarou. Just talk to him.”

“I...I know nothing?” He asked, eyes wide and tears dripping.

“Not nothing, but...you know what I mean. I hope you don’t take this as an insult, but your social intelligence isn’t particularly bright, unlike you academically. Not something you can’t overcome,though. Just talk to Takao--he’ll forgive you for whatever you did, because he’s a good friend.”

They’re at the Convenience store now. Grimacing at the memory of “breakfast”, Akashi quickly walked in with Midorima and bought the first two edibles they had the honor to behold.

❤️

Even though they have a game against Rakuzan coming up, the members of the Seirin basketball team still needed to attend their daytime classes--and don’t tell them that it’s only a “practice game”, because as Furihata learned in the game against Kaijo, the only notable difference between practice games and non-practice games is that in practice games there aren’t thousands to witness the wounding of the loser’s pride. 

Furihata tried to keep his mind on school, he really did. After all, he is a student first and a basketball player second, so he should pay more attention to the actual classes. 

Well, for some classes (namely biology and psychology) he managed to do that, but most of the day he just can’t stop the excitement coursing through his body. Even though it would be hours before he would actually see Akashi, it’s like his adrenal glands refused to acknowledge that fact as they made what must have been gallons and gallons of adrenaline that poured into his veins at increasing increments throughout the day.

As the clock inched closer toward the time of the match, Furihata’s rapid heartbeats began to drum against his ear and, gradually, overwhelm the teacher’s voice. Lub Dub Lub Dub, they echo, Lub Dub Lub Dub. 

These voices grow louder and louder, until, by the end of the day, he can’t even hear the lecture anyone. For your information, that class was history. 

Furihata could at last understand what Kagami meant when he said that we was so excited he couldn’t sleep the previous night, though that’s not a good thing--All Furihata knew, and could perceive right now was that the practice game will come, and he’s going to see Akashi. 

That thought alone turned all of the oxygen in his body and out into something else.

“Furi!” Fukuda said, poking his neck, “Are you okay? You’re kind of staring into nothing.”

And Furihata was shoved back into the slow, oxygenated reality with no Akashi. Trying to suppress his grimace (Why is he grimacing?), the brunette turned back to reassuringly smile at his worried friend. “Nah,” he smiled, “it’s nothing.”

“Nervous about the practice game?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Fukuda chuckled. He leaned forward, grabbed Furi’s head, and suddenly began to rub his large hands againsr Furihata’s vulnerable brown hair , accompanied with rambunctious laughter. “Ooh, Furi’s nervous, Kawahara! Furi’s nervous!” the center turned around as he roared with laughter, “Look at him!”

The point guard tried to shake him off. “Stop it!” Furihata cried.

The taller continued to laugh, and Kawahara popped his head out from next to him. (Is it just me or is Kawahara resting his head on Fukuda’s? Nah, probably just the Yaoi senses getting to him.) The bald teen furrowed his eyebrows, and he asked, squinting his eyes: “Why are you nervous? I mean, you’re usually a little bit nervous about things, but not this much about games since you don’t go on the field much. What happened?”

“N-nothing.” 

“Really? Don’t catch the Kagami Virus, Furi.”

“I-I’m not catching the Kagami Virus! And let go of my hair, Fukuda! It hurts!”

“Hehe.” 

The taller freshman let go of his friend’s head with a final ruffle. Furihata glared at him, and Fukuda shrugged before nonchalantly reaching out a hand to pat the him on the head, again. 

Kawahara smiled beside them, but then returned to his previous expression. “No seriously, why are you nervous this time?” The bald teen refused to let go, “Is it because you’ve faced Akashi and we’re facing him again? Don’t worry, we’ve def-”

Before the boy could finish his sentence, however, he was interrupted by a cheerful female voice in the hallway. When Koneko poked her head through the door, all three males simultaneously turned their heads. They watched with slight confusion as green eyes scanned the room before they eventually settled on Furihata with a curve of pink lips. 

She called out to Furihata, to the slight shock of the boy. “Today’s the day of the match, Furi!” She sweetly urged, “Do well and try to impress that special someone, okay?”

Furihata blinked confusedly, before they went wide with realization. How dare she mention this in front of them. “Koneko-chan!” He yelled, “Stop it!”

“Hehe.” 

Another female head popped up from behind her, but Takatsuki Koneko and her friend simultaneously backed out of the boys’ classroom at the blush on Furihata’s cheeks. Koneko, especially, left in a giggle. Furihata let out a sigh of resignation as he turned back.

So yeah, he was not only nervous because he’s planning to go to the game; after the game, he’s going to also--and this is top secret, don’t you dare tell Fukuda and Kawahara--confess to that special someone. And by special someone, he meant…

He meant Akashi Seijuurou, of course.

In a discussion later that night, Koneko, once again, suggested that Furihata should just confess to Akashi already. She said that this would be the best time to ask him out and that anytime later would result in the redhead forgetting about him.

"He clearly doesn't hate you." She said, "So It wouldn't hurt to try."

\--And Furihata decided that her words made sense. It wouldn’t hurt too much if Akashi just refused him flat-out.

Turning his head back to his desk, Furihata wanted to shrink beneath the countless unspoken questions that bore into him from Fukuda and Kawahara. Shaky hands proceeded to too-quickly swipe notebooks, pencils, and folders off of the wooden surface and into his backpack, and he nervously smiled as he got up from his desk, swung his filled backpack over him shoulder, and promptly ignored Fukuda's glare as he marched to the front of the classroom--

Or tried to, anyway. 

Just when the brunette managed to get up from his chair, a hand dragged him back down into it. Wincing at the pain in his butt (...and mentally shaking his head at everyone that saw alternative meanings in the last phrase), the boy lifted his head and, frantically, stared into his friends' very critical eyes.

Fukuda was sitting cross-legged with his arms crossed, while Kawahara had a somewhat leery expression on his face.

The bald teen was the first to interrogate, eyes glittering, "Who is this "special someone", Furi?"

"And why does Takatsuki Koneko seem to know her--or him--while we never heard a thing?" Fukuda continued, expression much more serious and hurt than Kawahara's as he leaned forward to face Furihata. The brunette boy leaned backward in response, but bumped into his desk and almost fell off of his chair.

Just as he anticipated the pang of the ground, someone reached forward to grab him by the wrist. At that, Furihata opened his eyes (that he didn't know he closed) and saw Fukuda reaching over the table to not only hold him, but to also pull him up into his previous position. Eventually, Kawahara reached over as well to return Furihata to his sitting position, and the brunette sighed.

"Thanks guys..."

"No thanking us, Furi." Fukuda said, "Just tell us who this girl is."

"W-why are you so obsessed with her?"

"Why?" Fukuda raised his voice. His eyebrows went down and his eyes went wide, as if Furihata had something ridiculous. "Why?" He repeated, "Why? Because we're your best friends, Furi! Shouldn't we know?"

There was a tone of disappointment in his voice, and, maybe it's just Furihata going insane, but he's hearing a bit of a voice break in the last question. 

After he finished his question, the center shook his head, as if saying "I had expected better from you"., and it made Furihata feel like crap. Kawahara frowned. 

"Hey hey hey." he reached over to rub Fukuda's shoulder, trying to comfort the center, "Even best friends have privacy, Fukuda--if Furi didn't want to tell us, that's his business. What we have to do is to support him, which brings me to our point--" He sharply turned his head toward the guilty brunette: "What does Takatsuki-chan want you to do?"

...Now it was Furihata's turn to get confused. "Huh?" He responded. Not in a questioning way, just in a "what the hell's going on" way.

"You know, you're going out with Takatsuki Koneko, right?"

"WHAT?!" Fukuda jumped up, point a finger at his friend, "Y-YOU'VE SUCCEEDED IN YOUR CONFESSION?!"

"I-I DIDN--"

"Of course he did." Kawahara chuckled, winking, "She said she would go out with him if he became the best in something, and guess what he did~? All for her. Aww."

"B-BUT." Fukuda was still pointing at Furihata, like he suddenly grew two horns, "I-ISN'T THAT THE INFAMOUS GIRL WHO TURNS EVERY SINGLE ONE OF HER ADMIRERS GAY?"

The bold teen frowned, then hit Fukuda on the head. "Why does that matter?" He hissed, "Maybe she wanted this one for herself--Every girl can be touched by earnest declarations of love."

“As if you know about girls.”

“Shut up!” Another punch to Furikuda’s head. 

The center rubbed his head with a pout, but nevertheless broke out in a smile as he turned to Furihata again. "Sorry." He apologized as he reached out to shake Furihata's right hand, without his consent, "But, like, congrats for getting your dream girl!"

"K-Koneko-chan and I--"

"Aww, you're using her last name already!" Kawahara laughed, "But come on, we have to go change and practice now, lover-boy. Gotta have something to impress her with!"

Furihata groaned as he picked up his backpack, again. I call her "Koneko" because that's a hell of a lot easier to say than "Takatsuki", you bald-haired gossip! He mentally hissed as they walked toward the gym, And the next time you assume that two people are going out, listen to what one of them is saying for god's sake!

But yes, I'm going to work on impressing that "special someone". Which is probably going to consist of me trying not to faint in front of him.

❤️

The elder man shifted a little uncomfortably in his cheap plastic seat. The noisy crowd poured in around him, and despite his unfamiliarity with the environment, Akashi Masaomi would consider himself to be in a rather...good mood today. Sure, he had to cut his business meetings a bit short to arrive at the game and since he's never been to a basketball game he had no idea what's going on here, but hey, he's going to learn something about Seijuurou today and see just what was so amazing about him. 

The Midorimas haven't arrived yet, so Masaomi reserved a whole corner just for himself and decided to look around a bit.

The vast majority of those coming to watch were teenagers, and a vast amount of them were girls in what Masaomi assumed was this high school’s uniforms; there were also some boys that chose to settle in the back of the seating area, probably to stay away from the girls. Oh look, here is a group of girls coming by. They sat right next to the elder man and began to high-pitchedly chatter about one of the players…

...Seijuurou?

"Oh my gosh Akashi Seijuurou's actually here in the flesh! Ahh!"

"He's just so perfect; I mean, look at that brain, that family, and that body! Those abs, those arms, and god, that face! God I would pay to bear his children.”

"Guys..." One girl interrupted, her brown pigtails swinging in the air as her green eyes turned to look at Seijuurou (or another player on the court--actually, it looks like she’s glancing at a Seirin player). At their stares, she coughed, shook her head, and deadpanned: "You know that he's...gay, right?"

The other two stared at her, before one of them sighed (flirtatiously--Masaomi never knew that you can “sigh flirtatiously” until now) and rebutted: "He probably just said he's gay to keep the other girls from Fawning over him too much"

The other one nodded, and continued: "Plus, just because he says he likes guys doesn't mean that there can't be an exception--I mean, Akashi Seijuurou’s too hot and sexy to not stick his dick in at least one pu--."

Masaomi clamped his ears shut and stared at the girls in horror.

...What the hell happened to the decency of Japanese females these days?

His son happened, that’s what. Ever-so-slightly scooting away from these creeps, the old man immediately flipped his head to the other side. Okay, these girls are scary--no wonder Seijuurou's scared of them. It’s one thing to acknowledge that your son is hot, it’s another to hear other people elaborate upon that fact. 

He decided that he would look at the court instead.

There was his son, looking sharp as always in his blue and white uniform (but, is it just his old age, or did Seijuurou have that uniform since he was in middle school? Nah, they just looked similar...). The redhead was sitting at a bench, a towel thrown over his back and sipping some water as he appeared to quietly observe his opponent. 

Masaomi followed his son’s line of vision, and found another, taller redhead laughing with the rest of his team. Kagami Taiga, he mentally noted, the poor fellow who witnessed his son’s emotional outburst. Anyway, Kagami Taiga was cracking jokes with one of his teammates, if their similar jerseys were anything to go by--the taller was wearing number 10, and his teammate was wearing number 12--and the teammate was laughing. 

A cute little laugh.

Akashi Masaomi doesn’t want to come across as a pedophile, but he would consider number 12 on Seirin to be pretty cute. Fluffy brunette hair, slim frame--but not without squish--and an earnest visage that was plain at first sight, but would grow more beautiful with each encounter. If he were homosexual and, you know, in high school, this is the kind of guy Masaomi would go for.

He wouldn’t mind if Seijuurou brought him home instead of Shintarou, Actually, they would look good together. 

(Oh Masaomi, what are you doing, pairing up your son with other men?!)

But is it just him, or did this guy remind him of, of…

“Kouhata Furiki?” Masaomi questioned beneath his breath. At that, the girl sitting in front of him, the one with the brunette pigtails, sharply turned her head and stared at him with shock in her cat-like green eyes. Masaomi wasn’t unsurprised by his--What did she want? He wanted to ask, Did he say something shocking? Did this girl, by some off chance, knew someone named Kouhata Furiki?

Her mouth fell open and closed, and Masaomi looked at her with confusion. She looked like she wanted to say something but eventually decided, with a pair of frantically enlarged irses, to turn back to her seat. Masaomi resumed his earlier activities as she texted someone.

He looked at the Seirin team again and a--holy crap, he didn’t notice that guy until now--a blue-haired male about the size of his son was sitting on the bench. That must be Kuroko Tetsuya, he mentally noted, the guy who managed to defeat Seijuurou.

...Well. Kuroko Tetsuya didn’t look like much. The elder Akashi might not know a lot about basketball, but he knew that a low sense of presence wasn’t particularly useful. Not that it was useless--these people were wonderful team players, and were great as shadows that supported the main players when given some special skills--

Oh. Seijuurou talked about this. Kuroko Tetsuya had defeated Seijuurou with teamwork. 

Masaomi smiled. Maybe he’ll send this guy a gift basket for teaching Seijuurou the importance of teamwork while his failed. 

Kuroko Tetsuya, however, now that the elder Akashi saw him clearly, didn’t look too happy. He was glaring at Kagami Taiga and number 12 with an odd expression on his face, and fiddling with his water bottle.

“Hello Akashi.”

Interrupted from his observations, Masaomi squinted as he turned to the intruder, only to soften into a smile when he realized that it was none other than Midorima Shinobu with his son by his side. “Hello Shinobu, Shintarou.” He greeted. 

The father and son simultaneously nodded and sat down beside him. After settling in, the younger Midorima commented; “I see that you have been trying to familiarize yourself with the surroundings, Akashi-san.” 

“Yes I have.” The elder Akashi replied. He lifted up his torso a little bit to turn around and survey the environment, and frowned when he didn’t find what he had been looking. Turning his torso to the teen, he asked: “Where are your friends?”

“I-I…” Midorima Shintarou hesitated, “I’m afraid that I’m not a particularly social individual, Akashi-san.”

“Oh no, I’m not trying to make you sit with others. It’s just that I thought, well...that kids your age would prefer to be with kids your age instead of with us old men.”

“Do not worry about that.” Shintarou said. 

He paused, and before his father or Masaomi could say anything in reply, the green-haired teen rotated his head toward the entrance. Green eyes stared at the source of the influx, looking on expectantly for a while before turning back to face them again. “The only person I considered a “friend” was Takao.” He quietly said, a noticeable strain in his voice as he said the word “friend”, “But...For some reason, he started distancing himself from me after I told him about Aka-I mean, Seijuurou, even though he was the one that encouraged me to do it. Confess to him, I mean.” 

A loud buzz sounded in front of them, signaling the beginning of the game. At that, Shintarou sharply raised his head and sharply turned to the game, blinking his eyes in an attempt to forget about his previous troubles. Still, he could not help but wonder aloud: “I-I don’t know why Takao’s mad at me--did I do something wrong? Did I say brainless things that hurt him? Did I--” 

He paused, and, suddenly, began to wryly chuckle. “I-I don’t know anything…”

Masaomi’s eyes widened when he saw a teardrop leak down the edge of his face. The same peculiar expression climbed onto Midorima Shinobu’s face, and, in a sudden, the older male’s eyebrows flipped downward into an angry visage. He grabbed his son by the shoulder, and hissed dramatically: “Do not worry, Shintarou! You don’t need anyone else aside from your daddy!”

“Stop it, father.”

“I will not, Shintarou. It is a father’s duty to protect you from bad friends like Takao.”

“T-T-Takao’s actually not a bad friend. I’m just the one that doesn’t know a whole lot.”

“If he’s making you think that he is a bad friend! It’s okay, father will…”

Jesus christ. Masaomi sighed on behalf of Shintarou, and he turned to actually look at the game. Actually, this seemed like a good time to get into the game, because the entire crowd was on their toes and cheering like mad. Unfortunately, the elder Akashi didn’t know a whole lot about the sport, so he can’t give accurate commentary, but a tall Seirin boy with glasses and wearing the jersey number 4 just blocked a shot from Mibuchi Reo. 

As the ball fell, it was immediately snatched by a shorter, black-haired boy wearing Seirin’s jersey number 5. Number 5 bounced the ball and ran a bit closer to the edge of the field, where he was met with resistance by Hayama Kotarou. The two then danced around each other, moving rapidly side to side, before Seirin number 5 stopped and seemed to survey the scene with his eagle-like black eyes.

Even though the ball was in the hands of number 5, none of the remaining members were quietly observing. They were constantly moving, busy blocking others and loudly calling to inform others of his “being open”

...Wait. Masaomi squinted. 

Since no one’s blocking him, why was Seijuurou just standing there and guarding his place instead of blocking a Seirin player? 

“He’s the ace.”

“Huh?” Masaomi turned his head and found Shintarou commenting. Narrowing his eyes, he further expanded on his query: “What ace?”

And Shintarou groaned. He grudgingly responded: “Ace is the most valued player in the team/”

“So why would that stop Seijuurou from blocking?”

Suddenly, number five shoved the ball backwards and seemed to throw it into thin air--note the word “seem”. For some reason, the ball got deflected and somehow landed in the hands of Kagami Taiga. That seemed to hype up both redheads on the court: Kagami immediately began running toward the Rakuzan basket, occasionally using his teammates to bypass obstacles; and Seijuurou, after all of his teammates have failed, stood in front of the other redhead, ready to fight.

“He’s the best, so naturally, he would be expected to only go up against the other team’s best.” Shintarou said, “He wouldn’t waste time on the other kids.”

Masaomi hated how that sounded. “Wasting time on other kids”--oh god, yet another phrase Seijuurou can use to boost his disproportionate ego.

Finally, Kagami Taiga and Akashi Seijuurou met each other’s eyes. When they did, the crowd went wild--people were standing up on the metal platform,stomping rhythmatically; the girls in front of him began screaming, and some boys behind him actually began a chant of “Sei-rin, Sei-rin.”. 

The chant grew louder, but some people (Masaomi has no idea where they came from, since this is, you know, at Seirin.) began a counter-chant of “Ra-ku-zan, Ra-ku-zan.” And like the two redheads in the arena, the people behind them began going up against each other.

Kagami Taiga tried to dodge to the left of Seijuurou, but the shorter saw that and immediately blocked him. He then stole the ball and was about to run with it, when the taller came up behind him and knocked it out of his hand. 

Just like that, they argued with their body language, neither side willing to back down in the face of a challenge. Once in a while, one of them would try to pass to their teammate, but they both efficiently blocked the other from doing that. Eventually, Seijuurou took the ball from the taller boy, did something with his knees, and sent the taller kneeling on the ground. He then shot the ball, but number 4 on Seirin blocked him--

The ball slipped into Mibuchi’s hands, and then Mibuchi passed the ball to Hayama to Mayuzumi who passed it back to Seijuurou at the Seirin basket. He shoots, he scores--three points.

“He is taking after you already, Shintarou.”

Shintarou blushed.

A new game begins amidst vibrant cheers. The ball’s currently over on Seijuurou’s side, and this time, Seirin number 5 (the eagle-eyed one) runs to block him, but Seijuurou locks his eyes into the other’s and does the knee thing, sending the unfortunate individual to the ground.

...He wasn’t getting up.

\--

Upon the particularly harsh impact to his knee, Izuki let out a small, but nevertheless sharp wince. Seeing the point guard’s harrowing expression of pain, Hyuuga’s eyes went wide.

“Izuki!” he cried. 

Immediately, the captain was at his wounded teammate's side, letting out coos of comfort and rubbing the black-haired male’s back. Briefly, he narrowed his eyes at the perpetrator, but didn’t open his lips to say anything as the the referee called pause. 

Soon the vast majority of the Seirin team were gathered by Izuki’s. Koganei was reaching out to help Izuki up and Kiyoshi, with an arm already thrown over him, stood on the other side. Kuroko silently judged, and Riko actually looked like she wanted to murder someone. After a couple choice looks at Akashi, the coach muttered, in the midst of chatters and worries: “Come on. Let's get you settled, Izuki.”

Her expression did not match her gentle words. 

Izuki nodded, and he limply hopped toward the bench with the help of Koga and Kiyoshi. As his senior approached, Furihata immediately scooted over on the bench to give him the room he needed. When his butt almost fell off the wooden furnace, however, a different source panic overtakes him.

I mean, of course he's worried about Izuki-sempai--after all, he is one of their star players--but another sudden realization made him break out in cold sweat: If Izuki-sempai is going to sit out on this game, then Furihata’s going to have to go in.

Which means that he’s going to be playing with Akashi. In the same field.

If there is a god out there, then Furihata must have done something to anger him because this was the last thing that should happen. 

Speaking of the devil, the crowd was whispering (Mostly negative words, considering that this was at Seirin) and some of the Rakuzan players were staring at him with conflicted emotions, but Akashi Seijuurou wore an emotionless mask all through the incident. 

If the redhead felt any agitation or guilt, he completely refused to show it on his face; while the Seirin crowd was gusting to Izuki, Akashi had stood right where he was, and he offered to help Izuki with anything the senior might need but when Izuki hopped back to his team, Akashi returned to his team as well without a single apology. He settled into his spot of the bench, and, suddenly, his heterochromatic eyes were staring into Furihata Kouki’s chocolate ones. Just like that, the brunette teen was frozen, half out of fear and half out of his inquisitivity and another half out of how handsome Akashi looked at that moment.

(Yes, ½ + ½ + ½ didn’t equal to 1, but he couldn’t care less because Akashi is looking. At. him. Right. now)

Casually, yet focusedly staring into Furihata’s soul, Akashi Seijuurou beckoned someone over and gestured him to whisper something into his ears. As the newcomer bent down and conveyed his message, the neutral expression on the Rakuzan captain’s face first switches to one of amusement, but then, to the brunette’s skipping-of-heartbeat, to one of feral appreciation. Pale lips lifted into a smile--no, a smirk, that’s definitely a smirk--and he mouthed something.

Seeing this, Furihata narrowed his eyes and tried to make out what he said. “W...we-well then.” He mumbled, to himself, “...l-le..lets ha--have some fun...F-F-Furihata Kouki?!”

He jumped back at the last utterance as Akashi grinned. 

How did Akashi knew Furihata was looking at him?

“Furi.” Kawahara poked him with an incredulous expression, “Why are you staring at Akashi?”

Furihata blinked, before he turned to Kawahara. “I-I was staring at Akashi?”

“Yeah, you were. The entire gym could see it.”

“O-oh.” 

Kawahara sighed. He walked to the front of the bench and sat down in it, right between Furihata and the injured Izuki. Ever-so-unkindly, he shoved the brunette off of his previous mount and took his place, and Furihata almost yelled--

Almost, because he was expecting it. I mean, it was obvious that he was going in--he didn’t have that thick of a skull--but come on, he’s going to go up against Akashi Seijuurou. You can’t blame him for wanting to delay it just a little bit. Oh crap, he’s shaking again. Shaking so much that he can barely see the stage in front of him, that everyone who had came to appreciate their game are looking like colorful neon lights.

Don’t black out, don’t black out. You’re not that much of a wimp, Furihata.

He managed to wobble into the field. Kuroko and Kagami might have offered him high-fives; they might not have--he didn’t know for sure, he wasn’t exactly looking--while he walked over to Akashi. Upon meeting the other’s heterochromic eyes, though, he started to feel downright dizzy.

“Hello.” Akashi greeted, with a seemingly harmless smile.

Furihata nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak as he tried to not bask in the great glory that is Akashi. He put up the best defense he could, arms surrounding Akashi without actually touching him.

The horns blew, and the crew goes wild. Again. 

The Rakuzan captain charged towards poor Furihata, and while he was temporarily blocked by the brunette’s existence, Furihata transferred his weight to the front of his feet. If you ask him why, it would be in some momentary, ridiculous belief that this would somehow project his energy, make him appear less of a scardy cat, and stop the redhead from blowing him off like cannon fodder.

But then the redhead just ankle-breaked him to fall forward instead of backward. 

Oh shit.

That’s what Furihata thought as he fell headfirst to the floor. The point guard tried to recover his balance by putting a foot forward, but that only served to push him further into…Both of them fell from the impact of Furihata falling: Akashi fell butt-first into the ground, and Furihata fell head first into the redhead’s crotch. 

Furihata blushed between Akashi’s legs.

Oh god, oh god, what did I get myself into. He internally screamed. Or actually screamed, he can’t really tell because the buzzing of the situation and his nerves and everything is just overwhelming all of his organs and all he can comprehend is a buzz and…

Akashi’s crotch smells really nice, though. And it’s warm. It’s sending tingles down Furihata’s spine and sending a strange mix of neurotransmitters and electricity through his neurons.

Oh no, Furihata, don’t you dare--

Before he knew it, warm liquid was coming out of his nose, and the liquid looked red.

He nosebled over Akashi Seijuurou’s pants.  
\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'll be going back to China in a couple days and staying for a couple weeks, so the next update is going to take even longer ;-; I didn't proof this as much as I usually do, because I just wanted to squeeze in a update before I leave.
> 
> If you have any comments, suggestions, or criticisms please do not be afraid to leave a review!


	19. Just My Bloody Luck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING UNTIL NOW. PLEASE READ AND ENJOY AND DON'T PUNCH ME.

 

You know, for most of his life Akashi Seijuurou considered himself a very eloquent person-a very eloquent person who was, as far as he knew, biologically male. As you can probably then anticipate, this eloquent, biologically male person had never seen, or expected to see blood on his basketball shorts before this fateful day, so therefore, when he was given the fantastic opportunity to behold blood upon his nether regions, he very, very eloquently thought:

"What. The. Unholy. Fuck."

Mind temporarily blanked out due to the dull pain in his head, Akashi cursively registered the referee blowing his whistle and signaling a pause in the game due to an emergency situation. A couple of Seirin players rushed to Furihata Kouki's side, and the brunette tried to lift his head up from the soakéd crotch only to struggle a couple centimeters up before falling down again.

And the crowd broke out in whispers.

(Whispers and snickers, to be exact. Actually, mostly snickers).

Aida Riko turned to Akashi and bowed-without extending a single hand of assistance, of course- as she apologized, sweetly: "We are deeply sorry for this, Akashi-kun. Please, don't be afraid to ask us for, um..."

She had to pause to hold in a grin before continuing.

"...help, while we're taking care of Furihata-kun."

Rubbing his head, Akashi finally managed to sit up from the floor. Deeply sorry my arse, he thought sarcastically, you're so sorry you couldn't stop smiling, and your teammates are so apologetic they couldn't stop smiling either.

Yeah, the redhead would have happily recognized those words as a sincere apology if the person saying them didn't look so happy at his misfortune. Seriously, the Seirin members are way too overjoyed about him getting blood on his clothes : Hyuuga Junpei was snickering as he flipped the brunette over, Kagami Taiga had to bite his lip as he moved him off of his comfortable resting place, the cat-face (Koganei Shinji, his name was if Akashi's memory served him correct) just spit out his water, and though he couldn't move, Izuki Shun followed his substitute with worried but undeniably amused eyes. Normally Akashi would have given every single one of these people the glare of death, but as of right now he's too busy wincing because human blood might have gotten into his underwear.

His head remarkably clearer now, Akashi climbed back to a standing position and examined the damage with a sigh: Initially, the red stain had only been present on the fabric atop his penis, but then the liquid leaked between his legs and pooled between his posterior and the floor, staining everything in its way. Seriously, the redhead mentally exasperated as Furihata was scurried away by his team, What in the world does he eat everyday? Whatever he eats, it better be iron-rich because Jesus Christ, this is a lot of blood. Akashi will need to change.

"Coach" he turned to his team and said, "Is there another pair of shorts that I could wea-coach?"

Shirogane coughed, blinking his tears back with the most proper expression he could muster. "Y-yes, Akashi?" He asked, "What is the matter?"

"...are you laughing at me?"

"Of c-" a short puff of air came out of his muffled mouth, "of c-"

"Coach."

"Of c-course n- PFFT HAHAHAHHAHAHA" the middle-aged man, despite his better sense, bent over again in unsightly laughter while he tried vehementally to deny it, "I mean, that's really-HAHA I'm so sorry it's just too funny I mean-PFFT"

Akashi rolled his eyes. He turned to look to one of his teammates for a spare pair of basketball shorts instead, but he quickly realized that everyone on the Rakuzan basketball team was either laughing or barely holding in their laughter-Kotarou was rolling on the floor; Eikichi was shaking all over; Chihiro was having a field day; even Reo, who usually rushes to his defense faster than everyone else, was too busy "pfft"ing in a corner while hiding his face from the bloodied Seijuurou. The bench players all basked in his misfortune as well, though to a comfortingly lesser degree as one of them dashed into the bathroom and handed him a dry towel. Groaning, the Rakuzan captain took the towel and brusquely wiped his neither regions with it.

"Yes, yes, hilarious." He mocked, "Now, does anyone have a spare pair of basketball shorts?"

The players, still not recovered from seeing their captain in bloodied shorts, shook their heads.

"Really? One of the largest and most well-known basketball teams in Japan, and not a single one of you guys keep a spare pair of basketball shorts?"

Mayuzumi Chihiro snorted. "Well, sorry captain." He snarked, "None of us really prepare for this kind of situation. Plus, Even if any of us had a spare pair of basketball shorts, you wouldn't fit in them."

Akashi narrowed his eyes. "Why not, Chihiro? Enlighten me."

At his captains current situation, Chihiro smirked. "With all due respect, captain, look at all of us and look at yourself. What's the first difference that you notice?"

"..My hair?"

"Beeeep! Wrong! You have two tries left, captain!"

"... I don't have time for games here, Chihiro."

Reo immediately put a hand on his boyfriend's mouth, smiling apologetically as Chihiro tried to squirm free from his grasp. "Ahh...you see, Sei-chan," He chuckled nervously, "what Chi-chan is trying to say is...is...is that, uhh..."

"Spit it out, Reo."

"Uh...at 173 centimeters, you're the shortest on the Rakuzan basketball team by a rather large margin, Sei-chan, even when compared with the bench players..."

The entire Rakuzan side of the court fell silent as a suspiciously dark aura took over their captain's face. Groaning, Akashi looked up at the stands and found his father laughing as well.

The dark aura just got darker.

* * *

Koganei Shinji, after observing the other side for some time, said: "...So it looks like Akashi can't find himself a spare pair of shorts."

The entire Seirin team snickered and Izuki chuckled, rubbing his leg. "Guess that marks a period to the Emperor's performance today, isn't it?" he beamed, and the majority of the team groaned. Hyuuga, however, snorted in agreement and Kiyoshi laughed in a not-so-good-natured way. Kagami, too, grinned as he reached over his shadow to take out a bottle of water from the portable freezer.

He handed it to Furihata and, as the point guard shakily twists it open, landed a heavy pat on the his back. "Great job, Furi!" He laughed, "That'll put a downer on his day!"

"Yeah!" Kawahara added, arm around Furihata in pride, "That'll teach him a lesson-mess with Izuki Shun and Furihata Kouki bleeds on your shorts!"

"Seriously, Furi!" Admiration seeped through Fukuda's eyes as he looked at Furihata,"How do you do that, like time your nosebleed so that it bleeds on the right person?"

Furihata wanted to cry.

Why is everyone acting like this is some sort of accomplishment? It wasn't like he was expecting some sort of consolation for bleeding onto Akashi's crotch as a result of smelling his groin, but the lack of consolation is a big difference from having it made into the highlight of his basketball life! Following Akashi's bloodied figure from his corner of the court, Furihata wanted to sob. Great, how the fuck was he supposed to confess to him now?

He looked up to meet Koneko's eyes and found that she was too busy chatting with her friends. Well, there goes the only one who can offer him solace.

Well...he tried to reason with himself, no attention is bad attention, right? They say that blood is thicker than water. So maybe-

No, Furi, stop it.

He mentally reconsidered every decision he made as one of his sempais violently rubbed his head in joy. Why, oh why did he have to bleed out of his nose in front of Akashi Seijuurou, of all people? He's usually not even that prone to bleeding out of his nose like a lot of Japanese people are!

Maybe it's the porridge. Should he have eaten something more solid instead? After all, a lot of water means that a lot of blood, right?

"Hey, Furi?"

Did the lack of meat and fat in his diet lately thin out his blood? Damn, if he knew this would happen he would have stuffed his face full of burgers like Kagami did. Maybe that's why he blushes all the time but never bleeds. Ahh, but he's eating this way in the first place because his family couldn't afford to eat otherwise, since meat prices have risen again these past few weeks. Speaking of which, damn he's a little dizzy right now...

"Fu-ri, are you there?"

Maybe the workload for "The forest and the moon" tired him out a bit too much. After all, it took him a whole twenty minutes just to draw the forests for the full cover of the second volume. It would seem that he had grossly underestimated the amount of work it would take to complete this grand series when he began this undertaking...but now that he had begun, he would have to finish it. Plus, it's not like he's particularly disliking the work.

"Kawahara, he's not responding."

"Trying talking to him about his girlfriend!"

"Uh...Furi, Koneko-chan is getting worried!"

Furihata Kouki, you know damn well why you fainted. You had a nosebleed because smelling Akashi down there was a little too much for you, you lightweight.

Ugh, he's so pathetic. But to be honest, Akashi Seijuurou smelled so good down there; beneath shorts that smelled clean to the point of eroticism, his scent was a warm, murky salt that was mixed with a powerful tinge of spice. What was that spice? Cinnamon? Pepper? No, Furihata couldn't put a finger on it-it was elegant, yet there was something unspeakably filthy and primal about it. It was uniquely Akashi Seijuurou, and it sent a million sparks down his spine.

"Nothing's working, Kawahara."

Furihata would not mind having that happen to him again in a less embarrassing setting. In fact, if falling into Akashi's lap was that good, then imagine giving him a b-b-blowjob-

"C-captain! Coach! Furi is bleeding out of his nose again!"

* * *

Per Riko's orders, Furihata contently sat on the bench and slipped back into his internal musings, closing his eyes and ignoring everything else around him-Don't get him wrong, he loves his team, but it appears that he had lost a lot of blood and his mental capabilities had suffered as a result. He's dizzy; he wants to sleep; he couldn't focus; and he's really not feeling very energetic at the moment. Of course, the game wouldn't be canceled from something as insignificant as blood on shorts, so he would need to preserve his minuscule amount of energy because Izuki-sempai's not going out with that leg.

Ahh, so what's his mind thinking about right now?

Akashi Seijuurou, what else.

Oh god, he really is just like a fangirl, mentally and physically ranting about some good-looking guy he had only met a few times at most. He doesn't even know anything about Akashi aside from the fact that he's good-looking, smart, and rich-Well, and the fact that he likes miso soup, judging from what he ordered at Maji burger. To be honest, Furihata finds it ironic that the heir of one of the richest families in Japan orders the cheapest and most common dish in the country when meeting with his friends.

Speaking of his friends, Akashi is quite...accepting, isn't he? For someone of his status, his choice of friends is rather poor-Of course, by "poor" Furihata's referring to their families' annual income. Usually rich people keep strangers that don't have money or status away from their gatherings, if what he learned from his readings are correct, but not only did Akashi not shoo him away, he invited him in. Even though what happened at the party was a bit...embarrassing, Furihata couldn't deny that Akashi was a kind host from the invitation to the escorting him home.

But...if he's so nice, why would he call some people useless? Call Furihata unrealistic, call him romantic, but he utterly, utterly refuses to call some things inferior just because he can't understand them. In his opinion, there are no good or bad people, only people whose circumstances, genes, and upbringings were a bit different than his. To Akashi, however, there is a difference between "useless" and "not useless", and Furihata can't help but wonder-is he useless, or is he not useless? He believes that he's the former, but then why would Akashi talk to him? Why the walk home? Is there something special about him? What is it?

Koganei nudged the first year worriedly. "Furihata." He asked, "Are you okay? You're looking a little dazed here."

Noticing his sempai beside him, Furihata decided to stop thinking about Akashi. Smiling sweetly, he nodded. "Yeah!" He said, "Don't worry, I'm just a little dizzy after everything."

The sempai is still concerned. "Are you sure? Do you need me to send you to a hospital or something?"

"Oh no no no no." Furihata laughed awkwardly, hurriedly shaking one of his hands in front of him, "it's not that bad. I will be fine."

"Are you sure? Don't force yourself."

"I won't, Koga-sempai!"

At the word "sempai", Koganei's cat mouth curled up into a satisfied smile. "...Alright." He conceded, though his eyebrows still hinted at some lingering worry in his mind, "But if you feel even the slightest bit of discomfort, you tell one of us sempais, okay?"

"Okay, sempai!"

Koganei gave Furihata one last glance and then walked away, and the brunette chuckled as his sempai proceeded to slide next to Mitobe-Koganei's sempai complex is so well known within the team it's kinda creepy, like, You can literally ask anything out of him if you just call him sempai. Furihata wouldn't be surprised if Koganei made Mitobe call him "sempai" in the bedroom

...Actually, Mitobe probably calls him"sempai" in the bedroom anyway without the other asking, since he loves his wife so much. After all, the tall male had eaten half a plate of Riko's cookies just so his wife wouldn't have to.

Wordlessly, he snickered as Koganei drank straight from the same bottle Mitobe had used, and at the fact that Mitobe looked pleased with himself at that.

Ooh, speaking of couples, is that Moriyama from Kaijo sitting in the third row from the back? Koneko's information about them going out must be true, because why else would anyone come all the way from Kanegawa to watch anyone that's not their boyfriend play? Oh my god, oh my god they looked at each other! They smiled! There's so much homosexuality floating in the air today, Furihata swear-Looks like Kise's here with Kasamatsu as well! Oh wait, looks like the entire team is here.

Well...Moriyama's still looking at Izuki.

Oh, and by the way, Mayuzumi Chihiro and Mibuchi Reo are definitely going out. Furihata doesn't really have any concrete evidence ,but the air between them is a dead giveaway. To be honest, he didn't really see the compatibility between their personalities and he's not exactly sure he ships it, but a ship is a ship!

B-but before he proceeds further, he needs one quesion answered first: Who's the seme and who's the uke? He can't really tell.

As if reading his mind, Mayuzumi Chihiro turned his head over and smirked.

Furihata shivered.

Speaking of ships, Kagami haven't talked with Kuroko even once today...are they okay? Their performance is falling a bit short, too.

The referee blew his whistle, and Furihata got up, ignoring the dizziness that's pounding at his head.

* * *

Turns out the hems of basketball shorts are elastic, who knew?

The tiny redhead shuffled a bit in his substitute shorts-borrowed from a very kindhearted bench player-and narrowed his eyes at the fact that they dangled on his hip and brushed his calf a bit too much for his liking. Nevertheless, he'll have to go with them because they're the best he can get at the moment. As the referee blew the whistle, Akashi stood up from the bench and began to walk toward the court.

"a-ah Akashi-san."

Akashi turned to the source of the voice, and it's the individual who had lent him those shorts, standing behind him with his previous pair of shorts in hand. "Yes?" the redhead asked.

"W-w-what do you want me to do with the...uhh..."

The boy looked down at the bloodied shorts in his hands.

Sighing, Akashi resumed his moving forward. He carelessly waved one of his hands as he said: "Throw it into hot water or something."

And that's the last amount of attention the captain's going to pay the unfortunate individual. Instead, he decided to focus his attention on the game and to begin planning his movements even before his opponents arrived.

Seirin's greatest strength is their rapid passes, he thought, so what he would need to do is to use an isolation tactic. Of course he knew that there's more to basketball than winning and that teamwork's important, yada yada, but he has to use his brain, too, and Rakuzan is a very different team from Seirin. Unlike Seirin, Rakuzan's biggest strength is the individual abilities of its members and due to the fact that they are all so brilliant in their own field, they can't mesh together (in a way that reminded him of Teiko. In fact, a lot of things about Rakuzan reminded him of Teiko). They are getting better at teamwork now but there was no way that Rakuzan could ever grow as close as Seirin is, so to follow along with their tactic is simply ridiculous.

Ahh, he smirked as Furihata Kouki shakily moved in front of him, so I have to handle this chihuahua again.

Staring into his terrified chocolate eyes, Akashi felt a strange sense of pleasure as he simultaneously planned his attack/revenge and pitied the unfortunate boy who looked like he wanted to die. The redhead recalled the previous incident, and suddenly felt guilty as he noticed the boy's paler complexion. Anyone would have wanted to bury themselves under a rock and never come out again after that, Akashi sighed.

Eventually, he turned to the brunette.

"Furihata-kun."

The Seirin point-guard jumped. "GAH Y-YES?!" he screamed as he faced Akashi, "I-I-I-I-I-"

"Don't worry about what just happened, okay? I know you didn't do it on purpose."

"I...I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

Furihata still looked like a kicked puppy, but somewhat less so. Akashi pulled back with a relieved sigh-He's still planning his revenge, but damn Furihata Kouki has a puppy face that he's not particularly fond of stepping on.

The crowd was eerily silent as the game began. Behind him, Seirin's Hyuuga Junpei and Reo jumped up for the ball, and as their heavy footsteps landed and reverberated amid the wooden floor, lights flashed and the crowd burst into cheers. Reo got the ball-he slapped the ball toward Akashi, yelling "Sei-chan."-and a hundred screams, yells, and roars flooded Seijuurou's senses. In a fit of excitement, his foot launched into a rhythm. He received the ball, immediately passed it back to Reo before Furihata could do anything, and, reading the brunette's movements, received the ball again.

He was then going to maneuver his way to the basket, but Furihata, with surprising resilience, stood in his way. The shorter redhead moved to the right, Furihata moved with him; he then moved to the left, and Furihata, wobbling, moved with him. Heterochromatic locking into chocolate, Akashi narrowed his eyes and considered performing an ankle break on him. However, analyzing the surroundings, he realized that he couldn't do that, so he increased his speed and passed him.

As expected, Furihata stood back in shock as Akashi moved into the center. Kagami came to block him, and as they looked into each other, the pressure escalated, and the crowd suddenly became quiet.

Akashi stood there and examined the surroundings: All of his teammates are being loosely, but not strictly guarded by a Seirin member; but all of them tilted their body in a specific position.

He looked to Chihiro, and Chihiro looked back at Akashi. Kuroko silently observed both of them.

As Akashi's small hands-wait, I meant large; oh no, I meant very large hands- worked the ball, it bounced off the floor and the noise echoed almost hauntingly in the gymnasium. Once, twice, thrice, the bounced off of his right palm, and the crowd must have lost its ability to breath as Akashi Seijuurou looked into Kagami Taiga's eyes, trying to gouge whether or not he's in the zone. Experimentally, he shuffled right and left, and Kagami moved with him.

Then he rushed in.

As fast as Kagami Taiga may be, agility is one thing that Seijuurou's small body holds as an advantage. He successfully got out from beneath Kagami, and as he dashed to the basket, Kagami followed him. Two other people-Hyuuga and...Mitobe? tried to block him.

Of course they were no match for him, skillwise; they were also effectively blocked by Nebuya and Kotarou, thanks to the special position they were in.

You see, since Seirin is the defensive team here they are the ones that are expected to do the blocking; of the two teams, they are the ones that have to pay more attention to the ball and to stop the person with the ball, namely Akashi here, from traveling to the basket. That means that most of their attention would be on stopping Akashi and less on the person they're blocking-as long as the other team wasn't passing them, Seirin doesn't, and couldn't, care. So Eikichi and Kotarou had purposefully arraigned their bodies in such a way that would be convenient for passing, and when the person blocking them had to do something else, it's their turn to shine.

The two-point lead they had was really nice for manipulating Seirin into this tactic, too.

Akashi prepared to shoot the ball, and Kagami jumped to block him. However, he saw that coming, and by the time the smaller redhead actually shot his ball, Kagami was on the ground and unable to jump up again. He smugly watched the ball fly out of his hand and...

Kagami, against all odds, jumped again and snapped the ball straight out of Seijuurou's hands. Soon, before Akashi realized it, the taller redhead had already ran it half-way across the court. The crowd cheered as he passed it to Kuroko, but Kuroko, to the audience's dismay, didn't pass it back. He tried to, but for some reason, hesitated slightly before receiving the ball which resulted in Mayuzumi receiving the ball instead. The other then passed it to Reo, who, deciding that it was too difficult to pass to Seijuurou, made a shot on his own. Of course, Hyuuga Junpei tried to block him, but to no avail as his fingers fell short.

And just like that, Boom. Two points to Rakuzan. The crowd cheers anyway.

Kagami gloomily retrieved the ball. When he got back to his team, Akashi observed with wide eyes as the shadow and light duo engaged in a little spat. Well, by spat he really meant Kagami yelling at Kuroko and Kuroko making no reply to what he said. Something happened between them, the shorter redhead quickly deduced, and while this worked in his favor for this game, Akashi genuinely wanted them to get over this hurdle because, despite what many think, he had a soft spot for all of his ex-teammates. Shaking his head, he high-fived Reo before heading back to his original position beside Furihata.

The puppy shook behind him, and the Rakuzan captain turned his head over only to see a strangely determined expression beneath all that fear.

Well. He smirked, this is certainly better than freaking out or nosebleeding onto my shorts.

The redhead let out a subtle snort of challenge, before turning back to face the game again.

Kagami was bouncing the ball, and Nebuya was blocking him. You might be asking why Akashi wasn't the one going up against the Seirin Ace, and Akashi just might tell you that he has something else planned for himself. You see, Kagami was very strong, as seen in both the final match of the interhigh and the fact that he managed to jump again. That second "zone" of his-it was truly frightening, and if Rakuzan want a victory they would have to do everything they can to stop it from happening.

Too concerned to see the trap laid in front of him, Kagami Taiga dribbled past Nebuya and smirked pridefully as he moved toward the basket.

"Kagami-kun!"

Furihata cried behind him. However, it was too late as the Rakuzan team surrounded him and blocked every way out for Kagami. The crowd stayed mostly silent-after all, most of them are girls who don't know the first thing about basketball-but a few gasps slid through, and Akashi just had to smile at the look on the other Seirin members' faces. Yes, now they can't use the rapid-passing tactic, can they? Right in front of him, Kagami was getting wide-eyed with anxiety and dawning realization.

Hahaha yes, burn with pain and anxiety, muahahaha!

In front of the redhead was Kotarou, who would block him if he dared to make any passes, and if he thought about dribbling past him He would be greeted by Akashi himself, not to mention the fact that Kotarou is no easy opponent to dribble past in the first place. Nebuya stood right behind him, and Reo, along with Akashi, guarded the periphery. Chihiro was mostly just observing and making sure that no one, especially one Kuroko Tetsuya, wasn't going anywhere near the Seirin Tiger-If Kagami can't pass to his shadow, then he won't enter the zone, and he won't be a threat to Rakuzan.

Amidst the audience's whispers, the game has came to a stalemate and both sides were put on high alert. The taller redhead's sweating now. He's hesitating as he swung his large body left and right, red eyes eagerly looking for a opening, any opening-

Unfortunately, there is none.

Kotarou, impatient, reached forward to snatch the ball, but Kagami quickly tilted his body so that neither Kotarou or Eikichi got a chance to even touch the it. Okay, Akashi will admit that Kagami Taiga's reflexes are impressive and that he's holding up nicely, but, either way, he has to pass soon, or Rakuzan's getting the ball.

Tick tock, Akashi smugly sing-songed, Tick tock, Kagami Taiga.

Suddenly, a nervous voice called behind him. "Kagami, I-I- I'm open!".

Akash snapped his head over to find Furihata Kouki jumping and waving his hands on top of his head, and the shorter redhead snorted.

"Open my arsenal," he said, half-to-himself, "the captain is the one blocking you, you fluff-haired idiot ."

But Kagami Taiga looked like he found a beacon of hope anyway (Perhaps because his brain had been fried by the tension. ) and made the move to pass the ball to Furihata. In response the shorter redhead completely blocked the tiny brunette, and, smirking, Kotarou rose in preparation of taking the ball from the other-

However, at the last moment, the taller redhead caught the gap that resulted in Kotarou's defense and slapped his ball toward an unexpected direction-where Kuroko was.

At that, the crowd bursted into loud roars and cheers. Chihiro quickly rushed in to take the ball, but by the time the third-year touched it Kuroko had already ignite-passed it to Hyuuga, which resulted in the other shadow wincing as he bounced back with a broken hand. No one paid him any attention, of course, as Hyuuga prepared to shoot-only to have a pissed-looking Reo standing in his way. The Rakuzan shooter towered over his Seirin counterpart, arms spreading and eyes glistering in a way that was almost beast-like in its focus. Unfortunately, The Seirin shortest was no softie either, and the Two shooters stared into each other before, at last, Hyuuga jumped and Reo jumped as well to block him.

He failed.

The crowd stomped their feet-some cried "Seirin" and others cried "Rakuzan"-and time seemed to freeze at that moment, nothing mattering aside from the ball that at one moment seemed to go in and at another seemed not to go in. Seijuurou's eyes followed the ball 's every movement.

And he mentally sighed in relief as the ball bounced off of the basket.

Furihata Kouki, however, was a shivering mess that looked like he had lost his soul. Narrowing his eyes, Akashi gave him one last look before turning to give Reo a high-five.

"That was close." The shooter said.

"A little trouble was thrown into our plans," Akashi replied, eyes still narrowed in thought, "but Reo, tell the others to keep an eye on Furihata Kouki."

"Oh, why?"

"I see trouble in him. Oddly pleasant trouble, but nevertheless trouble."

* * *

Amidst the roaring audience, the normally stoic, green-haired Shintarou actually grew wide-eyed in shock. He seemed lost for words; his mouth drifted open, and even though he stayed quiet in relation to others in the crowd, his voice was loud as his lips stammered, incredulously: "...Wow. T-that was a scene to behold. I-I-I cannot believe this actually happened. A-Akashi a-actually had his plans foiled."

"Why?" Midorima Shinobu asked, feigning interest in the subject, "Is this something that's strange-"

"OF course it is!" exclaimed the younger Midorima, "Akashi is known and feared throughout the basketball world for his tactics and unbreakable traps, father! For a freshman point guard to be able to just break through it is simply disheartening for Rakuzan's reputation!".

"O-oh..."

Shintarou nodded, reaffirming his previous statement as his green irises continued to widen in surprise (and a little bit of satisfaction) as they closely observed the outfoxed redhead. "This could not be good for his reputation." He uttered belatedly, almost as an afterthought, "Akashi is known as the emperor of the basketball world. after all."

...Seijuurou is the "emperor" of the basketball world?

Masaomi stared at the basketball court.

...Huh.

It's not that he's not proud of his son, or that he is not happy to witness the fruit of his son's hard labor; Thanks to his ten-something hours of study on the subject, Masaomi has a vague idea of how the game works (Basically the difference between 2-pointers, 3-pointers, and 1-pointers), but he's a little lost here- He never understood the difference between "Man-to-Man" and "Whole Court", or why each team needs different roles in them. I mean, What is it about defensive and offensive rebounds? What is it about going in the center vs. Going about the periphery? In fact, if Shintarou wasn't so kindly narrating the entire process Masaomi wouldn't have had an inkling why his son is considered so brilliant, and to be honest, he still thinks the whole "emperor eye" thing is a bit overrated-I mean, all he's seeing in this game is a bunch of kids in blue jerseys passing balls to each other and, occasionally, coming into contact with a bunch of kids in red jerseys. There's no superpower funky music playing in the background when Akashi's using his magical eye or anything.

So yes, he's just a filthy casual who's following along without understanding a whole lot about what is happening.

I'm sorry, Seijuurou. Masaomi thought, I'll learn more about this later...

But, he will say that the air about this match is quite pleasant. True, the arena is rambunctious and noisy, and there are crumpled-up pieces of paper and whatever littered about bleachers that had never been clean anyway-certainly not something that Masaomi, a stereotypically aristocratic child, had experienced before this-but there is a certain charm to this disorderliness that's fraternized with youthful passion, determination, and confidence. And it's infectious, horrifically so. When the students beside him screamed and cheered over their favorite players, the elder Akashi wanted to melt into that disorderliness.

He couldn't, since an adult's and an Akashi's pride withheld him from doing so, but he wanted to.

The mundane power-struggles and moments-of-life taught him to hold his own, taught him that he alone is responsible for his emotions and no one, no thing should do it for him. However, looking at Shintarou's nervous expression and the other kids' laughter, anger, and joy , Masaomi thinks that there's something incredibly comforting about loving something so much and allowing it to dictate your feelings.

This must be why the ancient Athenians loved sports and theatres so much-the spectator, flooded by adrenaline, relinquishes his or her sense of self and becomes absorbed in another's story and unlike in the real world, he or she is free to feel without any repercussions.

Masaomi likes this. He'll learn to appreciate the game sometime later-

But as of now, he's feeling a tad underwhelmed and confused here (I mean, no one's shooting lasers out of their hands or anything) as a piercing whistle sliced through the jubilee. Letting out a great sigh, Masaomi settled back into his seat and looked at the girl in front of him.

And...my goodness, is this girl okay? Blood's coming out of her nostrils! What is it with Seirin students and nosebleeding? Being the responsible citizen that he is, Masaomi took out a napkin from his pocket and offered it to her. "Miss?" He asked as he nudged her petite shoulders, "Would you like this?"

No reply.

"Miss?" Masaomi called again.

No reply, again, as strings on blood began to form on her uniform.

"Miss! There is blood on your uniform! Wait, why are you grinning!"

Annoyed, twin pigtails swung over to face him. "What do you want?" She said, "I'm trying to-"

"Miss. There is blood on your face and clothes." Masaomi repeated, for what felt like the fifteenth time, "Would you like a napkin?".

Blinking, the girl reached toward her nose and gently touched the liquid. Upon affirming that indeed, she had blood coming out of her nose, the girl turned to Masaomi and asked, gleefully: " Oh. Mind lending me a tissue?"

She's actually smiling.

What in the world.

Masaomi handed her the prepared napkin, and the girl proceeded to brusquely wipe her face with it. After she wiped her face, she handed the tissue back to the elder Akashi (who looked at it with a strange sense of deja vu) and stretched out a hand.

"Thank." She said, "Mr-"

"Masaomi." The elder Akashi replied, "You can call me Masaomi."

"Thanks, Mr. Masaomi." She gratefully smiles, "My name is Takatsuki Koneko."

Masaomi paused. "Takatsuki, huh?"

"Do you know someone with that name?"

"Ahh, one of my sisters' boyfriends was named that."

"'was?'"

"She...passed away."

"oh." Takatsuki paused, "I'm sorry."

And Masaomi let out a little chuckle. "Don't worry," He laughed with a dismissive wave, "It's really long ago. Just-here, you can have this napkin back-be careful not to bleed onto your clothes again, okay?"

Takatsuki looked at the napkin that was shoved back into her lap, and chuckled. "Okay, Masaomi-san." She said.

They both turned back to the game-or at least Masaomi did. Takatsuki almost immediately turned her head back after they ended the conversation. "Masaomi-san." She suddenly asked, "What do you think of Seirin's number 12?"

"Uh...He's handsome. Very pleasant-looking."

The girl nodded vehemently. "He's my friend, Furihata Kouki." She proudly said, "He's pretty cute, right?"

"Cute" is not one of Masaomi's preferred words to describe a boy, but yes, Furihata Kouki is cute. "Sure." He said.

At that, Takatsuki's green eyes glittered. "So how do you think he'll look with Akashi Seijuurou?" She asked loudly.

Shintarou and Shinobu turned their heads over, and Masaomi almost spit out his water.-almost, because he wasn't drinking any water-"Excuse me?" He repeated.

"Do you think Akashi Seijuurou and Furihata Kouki will make an adorable couple?"

"Uh..."

What in the world.

For your information, his instinctual answer to that question is yes, Furihata Kouki and Akashi Seijuurou look cute together. However, there are two caveats to that: First, he doesn't know Furihata Kouki as a person-even though he highly doubts it, Furihata Kouki could be a horrible person-then he and Seijuurou would not be an adorable together.

(As much as he sometimes doubt Seijuurou's moral compass, he wants a good person for his son. )

Second...

Masaomi glanced at Shinobu out of the corner of his eye.

Well, he has Seijuurou's current boyfriend and said boyfriend's (overly protective) father breathing down his neck here; it probably won't do him good to say that Seijuurou looks cute with another boy.

Masaomi cleverly decided to respond with an ambivalent shrug.

On the court, Seijuurou appeared to be having the time of his life, dashing through one opponent after another with his speed and drive. One player jumped in front of him, but Seijuurou rapidly passed the ball to Mibuchi before the other could do anything. The tall male then reached up to shoot, and as he did that another taller, bespectacled boy jumped to, presumably, block him but-oh, that was a fake, that was actually a secret pass to Mayuzumi.

(Speaking of Mayuzumi and Mibuchi, they appear to be together in a romantic sense. And the elder Akashi actually had to restrain himself from asking them how this type of relationships works and whether they read Yaoi or not. While it's interesting, it seems plain creepy for a middle-aged man to ask about high school kids' sex life.

Masaomi truly congratulated them-their temperament seems to match each other's perfectly, and there's an unspeakable kind of smoothness to their collaboration. He hoped that his son will learn to be the same with his partner.)

But anyway, back to the game; Mayuzumi shot the ball in such a way that it bounced back from the basket and as the ball bounced, several people reached to touch it-there's Seijuurou, Kagami Taiga, and Nebuya Eikichi (Masaomi quietly "pffted" at the drama of three guys all reaching for a tiny ball; don't ask him, it's funny).

Nebuya pounded the orange, rubber ball into the basket, and the metal ring that held the basket up vibrated in shock. The audience let out some cheers and some whispers as he swung down, but the tall boy ignored all of that as he silently walked back to his position. Hayama Kotarou picked up the ball, and silently dribbled it toward his side of the court, briefly stopping before Furihata Kouki to look at him with a crooked brow; however, the blond boy only shrugged before continuing to move toward his team.

Upon reaching his destination, Hayama passed the ball to Seijuurou who, at the referee's whistle, immediately pointed to certain places and yelled out orders. He passed the ball to certain players and back without fail, all while hopping past opponents much taller and much older than him.

The synchronization is incredible, Masaomi thought. It's like the entire team entered into a zone, all timed perfectly according to Seijuurou's passes-there's a rhythm in the way they move and yell and do everything, and Masaomi is sucked in like the rest. He can almost see electricity coming out of their eyes-but of course, nothing of that sort happened.

I mean, it's not like this is a shounen manga or anything.

All of a sudden something fell in front of Nebuya, and Masaomi snapped out of his daze. He watched in wonder as the referee called foul and as the ball was then handed to the bespectacled boy on the other side. "What happened?" He asked, and Shintarou, broken out of his daze as well, shook his head.

"Seirin's unfortunate number 12 just fell face down in front of Nebuya Eikichi," He said, almost pitifully, "He's too nervous-and all the attention Akashi's giving him isn't helping."

"Huh?"

Shintarou sighed. "Akashi is keeping a really, and by really I mean uncomfortably close watch on him. I have no idea why he's tormenting the poor guy. I thought he got past psychologically bullying people-even so, why him? He's not much of a threat, even if he did pull that stunt earlier."

"Well, for whatever reason, it probably pulled Akashi's team out of the roll they were on." The elder Midorima commented, "once you get pulled out of the zone, you can't easily go back in."

Shintarou's eyes widened considerably. "Y-you know of the zone, father?"

"Of course I do. I have a MD and a pHD in Neurophysiology, after all."

"I thought it is only something the top athletes are familiar with..."

Midorima Shinobu let out an irritated puff of air as he facepaled. "It's a simple biological mechanism, Shintarou." He groaned, "Your brain usually operates at around 70% of its full capacity, and only under very specific conditions, namely when you're trying to achieve a clear goal in something you enjoy, does it activate around 90%. Don't get swung by superpower logic, okay?"

"B-but what about the zone within the zone?"

"...What?"

Flushed, Shintarou pointed to Kagami Taiga: "He activated the zone within the zone at his last match against Akashi! What is the biological mechanism behind that?"

Shinobu and Masaomi looked at each other.

Eventually, Shinobu sighed: "With all due respect, that is baloney. There is no zone within the zone."

Masaomi continued: "It sounds like something a main character in an action film pulls out of his arse at the last moment to defeat the final boss."

Shintarou looked at them incredulously and just like that, all three turned to witness the beginning of the next round.

This time, Furihata Kouki guarded Seijuurou with a bruise on his forehead. Masaomi watched his legs shook and his eyes widen into something akin to fried eggs. Soon enough, the elder Akashi found himself saying: "Don't be so nervous, Seijuurou won't eat you." And wanting to hand this guy a massage coupon because, I mean, he's really not looking well. His eyes are a bit dazed, and his skin is an unhealthily shade of pale probably because he lost a load of blood on Seijuurou's pants (and no, he won't forget about that, ever).

When the game began, the brunette spread his arms out and tried to stop Seijuurou from passing him. However, the redhead just tripped (Or ankle-breaked, according to Shintarou) him on the spot when he arrived, but the brunette quickly recovered and tried to pull the ball away only to have Seijuurou dash past him. Refusing to give up, Furihata raced him to the other side and was in turn met by Hayama, who looked at him with a strange sort of unwillingness but was relentless in not letting him pass. Furihata tried to move pass him, but Hayama was quick, far quicker on his feet than Furihata was.

At the point of conflict, Seijuurou just passed the ball to Mibuchi, who then passed it to Nebuya. Nebuya shot the ball again, but he missed and it was intercepted by Kagami Taiga in the air. (Speaking of which, that boy can jump...) Anyway, the tall Seirin boy passed the ball to Kuroko Tetsuya, who rapidly deflected it to the bespectacled boy. Hayama, probably bored of the silent Furihata, made a move to help intercept the ball, but just as he was about to move a voice called "Hayama-kun" behind him, and the blond boy turned back. He frowned when he realized that it was only Furihata, and with a harsh cry of "Get him!" He returned to his original position.

"You could have gotten out beneath him!" Shintarou groaned.

Number four stayed where he was for a while and surveyed the court for a suitable person to pass to. Judging from his eyes, he originally planned to pass to Furihata but since Furihata was trapped, he passed the ball back to Kagami Taiga.

The tall redhead jittered a little at that, yet quickly kept on going and, eventually, faced off Seijuurou. He leapt and slammed the ball, but it bounced back and when he tried to push it in, Seijuurou slapped it away. It was then taken away by Hayama and Furihata couldn't do anything to stop him.

Oh wait, Furihata just did something to stop him. The blond, bouncing the ball, prepared to race it to the basket; Furihata snuck up on him, and, along with Kuroko Tetsuya, sneaked the ball out of his bounce. Hayama then arrived at the front of the basket, prepared to shoot, and realized that he didn't have the ball in his hands.

Furihata Kouki, however, didn't look any better with the ball. He looked scared, and he began bouncing the ball more rapidly.

"Oh, he's speeding up the pace." Shintarou said.

Oh, okay. So he sped up the game. Furihata Kouki quickly passed the ball to a tall boy, who passed it to glasses, who then passed it to Kuroko Tetsuya, and soon enough, the ball landed back in Kagami Taiga's hands. He jumped-even taller than before-and tried to pound the ball in the same way Nebuya did. However, the tanned male blocked him, and the ball flew out of Kagami's hands.

Mayuzumi caught it and passed it to Hayama. Somewhat more determined, Hayama kept his eyes locked on the ball this time, only to have a voice call: "Kotarou, pass the ball!"

"Sure thing!" The boy yelled back as he passed the ball, "Aka-"

It wasn't Akashi who called for him; It was the other team's captain, that bespectacled boy. By the time he realized that, it was too late for Hayama since he already passed the ball. Smirking, the Seirin captain started a set of coordinated passes with Furihata. They arrived at the Rakuzan basket, and Seijuurou was glaring at them at them.

The captain passed to Kagami Taiga, and the taller redhead tried to shoot but realized that Nebuya was on him, again, so the ball was speedily passed to Furihata.

Taking in a deep breath, he stepped away and took a shot.

And it was violently-yes, violently-blocked down by Seijuurou. Mibuchi took the ball and another tall Seirin boy went to block him, but Seijuurou continued to glare into Furihata Kouki's eyes.

It was that glare, the glare that told every single one of Masaomi's business associates to not mess with him, and Masaomi stared helplessly as another fell victim to it.

Seirin eventually made some goals, but Furihata Kouki never got to touch the ball again throughout the game. Seijuurou, along the rest of Rakuzan, pulverized-yes, that's the word to use-him like a steak on that court, and Time and time again, they beat him down until Furihata just about shrunk into a shell. To make it worse, since Seirin didn't have more members to put in, he stayed there.

But he did manage to pull Seijuurou's pants down that one time.

Wait, why is he on Furihata's side here? Seijuurou's team won, shouldn't he be happy?

* * *

Seirin lost. 80-70.

It's not as horrible as it could have been, but...it's pretty bad.

After some clumsy shaking of the hands, Seirin scurried off of the court, away from Rakuzan, and dragged their bodies to the changing room. As everyone threw off their jerseys, a strange kind of silence loomed over them, the kind that can't be covered by the shuffling of clothes and lockers: It's hopelessly juxtaposed with the countless questions and millions of what-ifs, and no one dared to look at another, all wondering what they could have done.

Or maybe it's just Furihata. Furihata failed: Akashi annihilated him. No matter what he did, he couldn't touch the ball without falling onto his butt or his face. Occasionally Fukuda and Kawahara, sometimes Kagami, came to jibe at him about how lovely he was for bleeding onto Akashi and dragging his pants down, but the air was heavy. Failure is heavy.

Furihata, sighing, stepped into the showers, but even showers are chillingly quiet after a match. As he dipped his head beneath the shower head, droplets of water fell like gentle reminders of the fact that yes, they lost and yes, they could have done something better. They won against Rakuzan before, so why couldn't they do it today? Furihata fussed over that question the entire time he was in the shower, and he shampooed his hair, washed his body, and dried everything like the routine.

He ignored the pounding in his head as he stepped out of the shower.

Usually, at times like this they relied on the sempais-namely Hyuuga and Izuki, sometimes Kiyoshi-to relieve the tension, but for some reason they stayed impassive today. Not only that, but Hyuuga and Kiyoshi are actually staring at him and whispering to each other. Furihata can't help but understand-He's a point guard, one of the most important roles for their style, and his inability to get out from Akashi directly caused the failure of the team. Yeah, he'd be angry too.

Somehow, Furihata tripped on the wet floor. "Ah!" He cried.

Hyuuga stuck out an arm beneath him. "Are you okay?" The senior asked as he pulled him up, "Go get some rest, Furi, and ease off on that job of yours."

"O-okay..."

Hyuuga sighed. "Good job today. Don't blame yourself for this, Okay?"

Sure, he won't. Furihata Kouki is not blaming himself for this-

He is to blame for this.

Having showered and changed, the brunette dashed out of the doors with a quick goodbye, and guess what, he bumped into Koneko.

"Hey" She said.

Furihata gave her a weak smile, and the brunette girl sighed. She rested a hand on his arm and began to scold him: "It's gonna be fine, Furi. You lost a practice match, big deal. Izuki broke his ankle and you're far less experienced that he was, so it's natural that you'd lost."

"I..." Furihata muttered, "I haven't been on my best lately. Those moments of cluminess are not my usual doing-"

"Shh," She hissed, wagging a finger in disapproval, "No self-blaming shit here, you understand."

Furihata nodded, and Koneko leaned back to let out a breath of undeniable irritation. After some awkward silence, she suddenly asked: "What about Akashi?"

And Furihata's eyes went wide in shock and disbelief. "Are you crazy?!" He almost cried, "I-I-I just embarrassed myself in front of him, both skill-wise and common-sense wise! How, in any way, is he going to accept me after this?"

Koneko's green eyes stared into his chocolate ones, and she bursts out in a smile-the first smile he saw after the game ended, and it's comforting-"You didn't get to do what you wanted because Akashi was on you the entire time." She stated, with one hand on her hip, "And he's on you the entire time because...guess what? He thinks you needed to be watched the entire time! I would actually say that he finds you very worthy!"

"Y-you are insane, Koneko-chan."

"I'm not, Furi-get past your self-loathing and objectively think about it."

Furihata Kouki tried to think back to the game, but all he could remember is the great desperation and shame as the ball was snatched from him time and time again, sometimes under his own eyelids. "N-no, I cannot. I'm too pathetic."

"I'm a former basketball manager, you know. When I say you were pretty amazing, you were, and Akashi Seijuurou saw that. Plus, god know when's the next time you're going to see him; just ask the question, and get it over with either the answer you want or the answer you don't want. If you fail, he'll probably give you his email or phone number and you guys can become good friends."

"She has a point, you know." A voice in his head said.

But the shame, the distaste on his tongue-All he wants to do for the rest of the day is to go home and drown himself in Yaoi.

He pondered it. And, after some consideration, the brunette gave his final reply: "...I don't know, I'm not feeling like it today."

Koneko's previous fervor at the prospect immediately died down. Her expression turned into pessimistic incredulity, but, eventually, she leaned back and conceded understandingly. "Of course, Furi." She said, sighing, "I'm not going to forc-"

"Excuse me?"

Both heads turned as a foreign voice interrupted them. Furihata intended to utter a half-assed apology, but once he faced the guy, all he wants to say is "Someone put a dick in my arse".

Because he just got thoroughly fucked.

Guess what, it's his nightmare and his dream combined into one slightly wet-looking Akashi Seijuurou standing beside him. Upon meeting his chocolate eyes, the redhead smiled and extended a slim finger toward a water bottle that-holy crap-Furihata didn't notice was there.

"Would you mind?" Akashi whispered.

"Ah, n-n-no, no, not at all!" Furihata yelled, purposefully ignoring the other's gaze as he turned his head , he did not want to see him right now. He did not want to see that smile on that face right now. He did not want to embarass himself-again-in front of him right now. Face flushing like a young maiden, Furihata quickly located the water bottle and shoved it into the redhead's hands. "T-there you go..." he stuttered.

"Thank you." Was the polite reply, and just as the brunette was going to let out a sigh of relief at the receding footsteps, the Rakuzan captain spoke again. "Furihata-kun," he said, "there is something else I should like to tell you before I depart."

Koneko gasped, and Furihata mentally sobbed. "W- what?" He asked, head still turned away from him.

Akashi must have stared at the back of his head for a while. Eventually he said, with a somewhat defeated tone; "...I won't tell you unless you turn your head over."

"..."

I don't want to turn my head over, he wanted to say-But that's what he did because he's too embarrassed to do anything else. As the brunette slowly rotated his body to better face the other, his heart beat out "thump. Thump." And very single one of his nerves was lit on fire. The adrenaline was pumping almost as if he's still in the game, except ten times worse because-

Matters of the heart often affect us more than the matters of the brain.

Akashi, who had remained somewhat pleasant up until this point, actually began to sigh upon seeing the nervous expression on the brunette. "I hope that I haven't offended you in the game." He said, almost a little apologetically, "I wasn't-"

Furihata jumped to interrupt him. "Yeah, it was a game. Don't worry ab-"

"I wasn't intending to disrespect you, Furihata-kun." Akashi, not happy at the fact that he got interrupted, continued, "I guarded you very closely because my judgment told me that you were a threat to our victory. "

"O-oh."

"Please, I beg of you, don't take it that I hold any ill will toward you because I hold none. In fact, I would say that I am fond of you, as a person and as a player. It is only that I am a rather competitive person."

"A-ah..."

"...Furihata, are you alright?"

"..."

"Furihata?"

The brunette blinked, and then rapidly shook his head back into reality. "T-that's fine, Akashi-kun!" He replied somewhat surprisedly, tone rising with his barely-hidden shock, "I-I-I understand! After all, we would have done the same to you. A-and I'm actually beyond honored that you see me as a viable threat instead of just a bench player, hahaha..."

Koneko threw him an irritated glade, one that screamed "Why the fuck are you talking shit about yo'self?!". However, neither Furihata nor Akashi took note of that as they both burst into chuckles, the brunette scratching his head and the redhead leaving back against a door that kinda popped out of nowhere. "Oh, you underestimate yourself too much, Furihata-Kun." Akashi replied, chuckling, "You're a talented player-you just don't see it yet."

"T-that's a lot of praise you're throwing my way, Akashi-Kun!" Furihata answered, somewhat jokingly, "Y-you are embarrassing me..."

Akashi laughed in reply as he threw a glance in Koneko's direction. "Well." He broke out, after some smiles, "I would like to converse some more with you, but", he paused, and heterochromic eyes briefly, but thoroughly studied the pig-tailed female, and Koneko nearly froze from the chill in them before the Rakuzan captain showed her some mercy and faced Furihata again. "It seems that you are currently busy with this young miss over here-"

"O-oh no, I have nothing to do here!" Koneko muttered quickly, "A-actually, he has something to tell you too, Akashi-kun! G-good talking, you guys!"

As the fujoshi's slim figure proceeded to scurry away in the sunset, the redhead turned to Furihata with a raised brow and the brunette could only curse Koneko, again, for not forgetting about his confession. He awkwardly scratched his head. "Let's go outside, shall me?" He asked, and Akashi nodded.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the one of longest chapters I have ever written, but I still wanted to add more because it feels like there's not a whole lot here...I guess Furi's heartbreak will just have to come later, then.
> 
> Oh, and by the way, I just came back from China. It was fun (and hot, like, really hot) but the one thing that's annoying about it is that it doesn't like Google and a lot of my stories are saved on google drive...so yeah.
> 
> Also...I don't know crap about basketball, but the flow of the story kinda demanded me to include a lengthy description of the game. ;-; I promise I'll get better.
> 
> Like always, if you have any comments, criticism, or suggestions please don't be afraid to leave a review.


	20. Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we have Furi's confession ^_^ God, I'm horrible at updating regularly ;-; Sorry...
> 
> Oh, and by the way...I'll be staring school soon so expect less frequent updates

  
Raindrops converted the usually bustling, prismatic streets into a collection of disheveled monochrome; beneath the merciless onslaught of water, light becomes dark and order comes loose like an indigestion tablet that has been placed in a glass cup of water. Branches wilt until they became brown with apoptosis, and well-respected teachers are reduced into frightened, hurried passerbys that dash about the streets like aimless ants, seeking shelter and using their students' homework as temporary, feeble relief from the gushing rain. Sometimes, a flash of thunder lights up the otherwise lifeless sky, and these dense droplets pitter-patter even louder, connecting into thin, needle-like streaks that obscure the view of everything in sight, before collecting into abandoned puddles on the Seirin side of the road.

On the other side of the road, the city of Tokyo falls into a stalemate amidst beeping horns and violent tapping; The city is currently hanging on that unfortunate brink between day and night, the time of interchange between professionalism and family, and though the congestion is not a scene that the inhabitants are unfamiliar with, this undesired precipitation had put quite a damper upon their moods and elicited the worst in people. Their annoyance is not incomprehensible--after an entire day of bending your will to suit other people's desires, one would surely either want to dissolve the frustration in love for a certain someone or something, or release those frustrations upon some unfortunate individual.

In reality, rain does not heal; it is the raincloud's form of release, that, in turn, triggers a similar release in people. One by one, these people fall to their baser instincts the same way in which dominoes fall to the gravitational pull, and these streets they occupy are stained red by the cars' hindlights

Yet, back at Seirin, the air was eerily immobile and peaceful. Indeed, the school has a long tradition of being especially beloved by those dark, thundering masses of condensation; they frequently gather about the establishment like an unwelcome quilt, and mark their presence with prolonged drumrolls and sparks of electricity. There, however, was an odd kind of charm about these precipitation as they bounce off plastic verandas and onto the AstroTurf; they drown out noises from the outside world, just a street over, and suddenly they're all anyone could hear. Under their tyrannic rule, none dares to pass, and none dares to enter, and the school is thus transformed into a secret meeting place of some kind, surrounded only by thundering clouds and howling winds. They whisper: "what happens today shall only remain in this day." at every second possible.

Ahh, but back to our darling protagonists. 

* * *

  
Stretching a hand out from beneath the roof, Furihata affirmed that there is, indeed, a downpour. "Looks like we can't go home in this weather." He lamented, and Akashi tilted his head upwards, examining the clouded sky for a second before scrunching up his peculiar eyebrows in distaste.

"I thought the weather forecast said that it wasn't supposed to rain until tomorrow." said the redhead.

And the fluffy brunette began to chuckle heartily. "Don't always believe the weather forecast, Akashi-kun." He jibed, "They aren't always accurate.”

"Well, you are one to talk. Aren't you stuck in this rain?"

"I made the same mistake you did--Wait, shouldn't you add an "as well" to that last sentence?"

The redhead grinned, and his lips curled in that mischievous yet oddly elegant way. "My father and my teammates drove here in a car," replied the male, "So we can leave any time we want."

As his voice fell, subsequent thunder resonated about the periphery of the school.

And the brunette was, suddenly, at a loss for words.

As another round of precipitation proceeded to pound upon the vulnerable earth, the reality of the situation, for the first time today, set in: Akashi Seijuurou had arrived in a car, probably the latest model that's equipped with rear-view cameras and high-end GPS navigation systems; he probably has a driver at home, and he probably knew how to drive already since he is so well-endowed in terms of both intelligence and money--Furihata Kouki, on the other hand, hasn't even been inside a car before.

The boy's lips trembled, before they, eventually, broke out in an artificial smile. "O-oh." He laughed weakly, "T-That's convenient."

"...Furihata?"

A gale gushed past an oak tree and blew up Furihata's bangs in the process. The Seirin boy lifted his head at Akashi's curious voice, and immediately blushed upon feeling these heterochromic eyes on him-- Oh great, he defeatedly thought, he just embarrassed himself in front of Akashi, again.

Why did he even bother liking him?

Shh! Koneko's voice suddenly resonated in his head, stop with that self-deprecating shit! He is talking to you because he finds something in you worthy, whatever that may be!

But what exactly does Akashi like about him?

Well, imaginary Koneko screamed, ask him!

Another round of lightning illuminated the redhead's handsome features, and Furihata took a deep breath. "H-hey." He uttered, hopefully not out-of-nowhere, "Y-ya know, I um, was wondering about something. Something about you, Akashi-kun."

At that, Akashi slightly tilted his head toward the brunette. "Something about me?" He repeated.

"Y-yeah..."

"Huh." Akashi hummed, somewhat surprisedly, as he sauntered over to Furihata. Those pale lips curved into a charming smile. "Well, ask away then." He invited, "I shall be glad to answer."and he proceeded to settle his body right next to the brunette's. 

The Rakuzan captain's visage at the moment, as he's standing beneath dark skies and muddy rain, was reminiscent of a recherché, aristocratic London gentleman from one of these (translated) Victorian novels Furihata read a while ago, and suddenly, he thought that those novels suited Akashi. Everything about Akashi Seijuurou, from his scarlet hair to his pale skin, felt like it belonged to a world far, far away from Japan and from this ordinary school. He felt unreachable.

He is literally a dream.

Oh great, he's blushing again--but you cannot blame him! He is confessing to a man, moreover a handsome man that he has barely talked to!

"Akashi-kun." Furihata said, "w-when you walked me home on that day, you said that you don't do useless things."

"Yes." The redhead responded.

"And you don't talk to useless people."

"That is correct."

"Then...am I not useless?"

"Of course not."

"H-how?"

A couple of Seirin members passed him as Akashi opened his mouth to respond, but he immediately closed it and leaned back in contemplation. "This is a much harder question than I thought." He muttered, and his brows crinkled.

"I-I'm sorry--"

"There's something, something" heterochromic eyes stared into chocolate ones, "that's pleasant about you that I cannot put my finger on."

"There's something...pleasant about me." Furihata stuttered.

The brunette's mind went blank as his heartbeat resonated throughout his body. Akashi turned away from him, sighing, and dipped his head into his palm before turning back to grin defeatedly."Yeah." He admitted, "I cannot ascertain it, I just like talking to you. Perhaps it's because you're nice, or it's because you're good-looking--"

"Wait wait wait what?"

Did his ears betray him? Did Akashi Seijuurou, the king of attractiveness, just say that h-h-he's good looking? H-how in this world is someone like him even considered anything above average by A-Akashi Seijuurou, of all people! He doesn't have pale skin, red hair, heterochromic eyes, or power that practically oozed off of his pores--No, no. This is too good to be true. Furihata Kouki is not good-looking.

The redhead blinked at Furihata's confusion. He frowned, seemingly rather confused himself: "Of course. Doesn't everyone agree?"

"N-no." The brunette stuttered, "I...I am plain, and nothing more..."

At that the redhead's expression turned sharp with distaste. Annoyance poured through his voice like water poured upon the world outside--inconsiderate, wild, and uncontrollable--as his warm voice suddenly transformed into icy cold. "Don't talk like that about yourself." He hissed, "I thought I had informed you that I don't like it?"

Furihata jumped back, surprised at the redhead's sudden change in attitude. "A-ah. I'm sorry," the brunette apologized, "it's simply that everyone around me said this about me, so I kind of accepted it as truth."

Those words seemed to satisfactorily quell Akashi's anger, wherever it came from; the redhead's sharp expression actually softened into a smile, before his lips curled downward in another expression of astonishment. "Are you trying to say that people around you don't think that you are attractive?" He asked, incredulous.

"W-well, even I don't think I am that attractive..."

Akashi rolled his eyes. "You." He said, " and the people around you, you all have horrible taste in men."

"Uh...thanks...?"

"Sei-chan!" Mibuchi Reo suddenly popped up from behind the door, "Come on! The car's ready and we're all just waiting for you!"

He winked and waved cheekily upon seeing Furihata, and Akashi groaned.

Furihata mentally thanked the rain clouds for his luck: I mean yay, he won't have to embarrass himself in front of Akashi? Just as the brunette was going to say goodbye and dash, however, the redhead called back: "I have something else to talk about with Furihata-kun, can you wait a minute?"

And the tall shooter's eyebrows turned down in dissatisfaction. "What, no--"

"Reo." Akashi stated, again, "I have something to talk about Furihata-kun, and please don't interrupt us."

Mibuchi pouted. Akashi raised his eyebrows in warning, and the tall shooter bit back whatever he's going to say and shrunk back into wherever he came from. Akashi turned to face Furihata and opened his mouth--

"Make it quick, okay?" the black-haired male reminded as he popped up, again, and only shrunk back in shame when Akashi glared at him.

* * *

 

Help.

Midorima Shinobu pleaded as he was squeezed in a car with five very rowdy teenagers--Yes, by five Rowdy teenagers he meant Shintarou too; his son was usually very calm, but as it turns out even a calm person gets violent when you tease him about his boyfriend too much. However, Seijuurou's teammates do not seem to understand the meaning of "personal space", especially where their captain was concerned.

"Hey hey, how far did you guys go?" a blond player poked his son, "When I was with him we--"

Shintarou blushed. "I-I don't want to hear about him back when he was with you!" He screamed, and the oldest one smirked.

"Aww you're so shy." the silver-haired male cooed, sliding a clothed arm around the poor boy, "Don't worry, we're going to dirty you quite a bit."

Frowning, Shinobu reached over from the driver's seat and whispered to Masaomi: "What in the world does that boy mean by "dirtying" Shintarou quite a bit?"

His friend shrugged.

"Nothing for you to freak out over." He replied blankly before turning to face the steering wheel instead, "and speaking of which, why are you the one driving here? This is my car."

The elder Midorima rolled his eyes at the memory. "The last time you drove you ended the life of an unfortunate duck."

"That was ten years ago! Plus, if I didn't hit the duck we would have had to get hit by the 18 wheeler behind us!"

"Your son was in there!"

"There was an eighteen wheeler behind us!"

Midorima Shinobu would have given a sassy response to those words; however, the sky grumbled and interrupted whatever he was going to say.

Everyone's eyes turned to the window at the sound of the increasing deluge, and Masaomi's eyes immediately shot to the direction that the black-haired shooter had gone in to fetch Seijuurou. As the car fell silent, the elder Akashi broke the silence.

"Where is Mibuchi and Seijuurou?" he asked.

Shinobu turned to look out the car. To be honest, this downpour was not unexpected; transparent droplets of water had gathered on the car's windshield all through their journey here. They had occupied the glass pane in irregular spreads--large, small, dense, loose--and when they got too big, another raindrop would join them and they would trickle down, leaving behind a trail of diamond-sized liquid to slowly grow and fall like their predecessors. The sight was was cute, almost poetic as Shinobu observed one such congregation of water and awaited its downfall, while Seijuurou discussed his plans.

But, right now, the rain was not nearly as half as precious. No matter how fast the long brushes turned, they couldn't stop the water from coating every inch of the windshield and arresting his vision, blurring trees into vague curves of green and black. Instead of pleasant congregates, the water made short-lived craters that blended into each other behind a back drop of grey sky. Shinobu was almost certain that those who say that they like rain were referring to the earlier form, and not talking about this.

As if waiting for this sentence from Masaomi, Mibuchi came back into their vision, covering his long hair with a hood. The senior reached forward to open the door for him, and the shooter mouthed "thanks" before turning to face the parents. Looking into golden eyes, he reported: "Sei-chan says he still has something to talk about."

"Talk about what?" Masaomi inquired, "with whom?"

"Furihata Kouki." Mibuchi replied, "about what they're talking about...sorry, I have no idea. Didn't dare to ask."

Shinobu mentally chuckled at the fearful expression on his face. "Didn't Dare"? Seijuurou was two heads shorter than Mibuchi, what could he possibly do? Behind him, Shintarou frowned and narrowed his eyes. "Furihata Kouki." his son muttered to himself, "Why would Akashi need to talk to him? There's nothing to be gained for him in talking to Furihata, no, none."

The blond guy shrugged. "Maybe to apologize for beating his ass sore. " he said, "I mean, we went hard on that guy."

"No, no, there's nothing going on between them." Shintarou promptly ignored the other as he continued to mutter to himself. Eventually, he fell into a wordless silence and looked out the window. Shinobu felt his heart ache.

In spite of what Masaomi would say, the elder Midorima was not a naturally doting person. He's just protective of his son because he knew that his son was just like him--intelligent, awkward yet deeply, emotionally sensitive. Like his father, the boy is someone that cares about each and every one of his relationships, whether they be physical or emotional; there is nothing, nothing in this whole world that the Midorima father and son fear more than losing a dear friend or lover. So they do things: they take blame for things that they didn't do, and they worry and become insecure at the smallest hints of disinterest. They step so low for people that they love, that those people gradually lose respect for them and step on them time and time again until eventually, the green-haired father and son learned to wear a veneer of arrogance.

They learned to act like friendships and love doesn't matter, and to always keep people at a distance and never love too much--Well, Shinobu did. He hopes that Shintarou won't have to do the same.

Also, despite what Masaomi would say, the elder Midorima knew that Seijuurou took after his father a lot more than he took after his mother. Take away their outward appearances, Akashi Masaomi and Akashi Seijuurou had that same charm, ingenuity, and power in their veins--it's just that the younger realized them way before his father did. At age 24, Masaomi was a talented businessman. He often invested in companies that no one else, including Shinobu and other members of the Akashi, saw potential in and turned them into tycoons that toughly held monopolies in their field. And once he got where he wanted, he stayed there--some others have tried to steal a bit of spotlight, and some succeeded somewhat, but nothing escaped his eyes and none ever surpassed him. Soon, Akashi Masaomi ruled the business world, and no one had anything to say about it.

The way Seijuurou dominated that basketball court reminded Shinobu of how Masaomi dominated the business court--a set of meticulous, coordinated passed made under impeccable judgment and a special eye for the larger scene.

However, Seijuurou's brilliance at such a young age is not necessarily a good thing, given that he's also in possession of the same obliviousness in regards to feelings. When Masaomi was young, he made many mistakes and, unknowingly, hurt many people he cared about--once, he had stared down Shiori and told her, with an expressionless face, that she was grossly overweight and that her vegetarian diet was not helping. As it turned out he was simply trying to inform her that starvation and diet doesn't help you lose fat as well as exercise does, but that angered Shiori so much that the poor girl seriously considered breaking up with him--Shinobu had to beg her in his friend's favor to not let that happen. Well, she did pick up basketball as a result of that--anyway, even though Masaomi learned, it took time and an impartial examination of himself. Because he wasn't the champion of the business world yet, Akashi Masaomi was humble and took every piece of advice from Shiori and Shinobu to heart, but Akashi Seijuurou, well...

It's not something one can understand without going through some mistakes first. Let's hope that Akashi Seijuurou will recognize it when he made a mistake and not blame other people for it.

It's not that not caring about what other people thought is a bad thing--in fact, Shinobu always admired Masaomi for that--but it's another matter when Seijuurou's too cocky and that "other person" is his son. This is why he so adamantly opposed this idea of them dating; Seijuurou would need to make some mistakes, and he's fine with that, but Shintarou, a delicate person, shouldn't get mixed up in it.

Staring into the rain clouds, Shinobu wondered: is this Furihata Kouki confessing to Seijuurou as well? If he is, he will get his heart broken but...

Please don't be a jerk, Seijuurou.

* * *

  
After Mibuchi left, the captain sighed. "I'm sorry about Reo." He apologized, shaking his head in a helpless fashion.

But Furihata couldn't hear anything he's saying. Oh god, he pleaded, please, please don't--

Akashi lifted his head up and locked those piercing, yet oddly captivating eyes into the brunette's. Seemingly sensing the other's nervousness, he chuckled and muttered, in that low, seductive tenor of his: "Furihata-kun, You said that you have something to tell me?"

"U-uh no..."

The redhead laughed, and stepped a bit closer until their noses almost touched. "Don't be shy, Furihata-kun." He whispered, "Oh, and please forgive me for the distance--it's a bit loud here, with all the rain."

As if concurring with the redhead, a white spark skittered about the sky and lit up with a resounding "boom";

The brunette closed his eyes to take in a deep breath. This is it, he thought, this is what you had coming ever since you went with Kuroko to those stairs.

You know, Furihata had fantasized about this moment all through the day. (Perhaps, subconsciously, he thought about it all through the game, too.) The good, the bad, he probably thought through every possible scenario, and his pathetic little heart had nearly given out at every single one of them. Sometimes, like seconds before just now, he wanted to give up because it hurt. Liking him without an answer, it hurt. Whenever he thought about Akashi, his entire body becomes oversensitive, and his brain rushes to overthink every single interaction. His heart rate probably increased over two-folds as the day went on and right now, it's pulsing against his eardrums.

But strangely, right now, just before the big moment, he felt horrifyingly calm. It's like the world temporarily paused: on one hand, nothing entered his ears as he thought, for the first time, that everything will be fine, but on the other, he's hearing everything and seeing everything and his entire existence depended on Akashi's answer.

Furihata took a deep breath, and cried:

"Akashi-kun, I think you're really handsome and I like you!"

Raindrops fall down even faster and harsher than before, orchestrating a symphony along with the rumbling thunder. Crossing his arms, the redhead let out a cheeky grin.

"Furihata-Kun" He said, choosing his words with a kind of care that wasn't characteristic of him, "A-are you confessing to me?"

Furihata swallowed. "Yes."

Akashi stayed still for a second, and he smiled with an oddly sated expression on his face as the symphony beside him grew louder and louder. However, that smile suddenly froze, and Akashi's cat-like eyes suddenly went wide in shock and in something that Furihata's hazed mind couldn't process.

Opening his mouth and closing it, the redhead tried to literate a message, yet his expression switched from sadness to anger to hate and his usually eloquent lips just couldn't find the words to explain himself in front of a person that held such genuine affection for him. Eventually, he let out a resigned breath of air as he turned away from Furihata to face the rain. "I--" the redhead tried, but he had to stop himself. He turned to look at Furihata again, and the brunette wanted to die.

Did he do something wrong? Was he too brash? Maybe bleeding on Akashi's pants were a little too much--

"Furihata-kun." Akashi's voice broke him out of his daydreaming, "C-can I call you Kouki?"

"Uhh...sure." Furihata nervously responded, even though he's not sure why this is relevant, "You can call me whatever you want."

The redhead lets out a weak smile. "Well, Kouki..." He quietly mutters, "I am beyond honored that you, uh, find me worthy of your affection. Why do you like...me?"

Furihata's takes a deep breath. "I don't know." He replied shakily, "I just...couldn't stop thinking about you."

"Oh..."

"I-is there something wrong with that?"

"Nothing." Akashi sighed, shaking his head, "It's just so typical. There are plenty who couldn't stop thinking about me after they met me, Kouki. And I don't blame them--I would call myself a rather peculiar character. I am from an aristocratic family, I am decently attractive, and I am in possession of a couple of interesting personality quirks in addition to being a brilliant basketball player--a lot of people are drawn to me, Kouki."

"I... I"

"Out of these people that find me fascinating, you are hardly the most eye-catching one. And I don't mean this an an insult, Kouki...but I can't reciprocate the feelings of everyone that likes me. I have responsibilities to bear as the head of the Akashi, and being together with you won't exactly...fulfill them."

"O-oh."

Furihata's heart sank. Responsibilities? What responsibilities? Furihata doesn't know about them--what kind of responsibilities does a rich person have that dictates what kind of person they could go out with? Isn't that their choice?

"Akashi is a household name in Japan, and I have to uphold it. I have to take over my father's business in the future, and it would be incredibly inconvenient if my future partner has no knowledge of the business world, which I don't assume you have."

Akashi's right, Furihata had no knowledge of the business world.

"Judging from your washed out clothes, am I correct to assume that you did not come from a prestigious family like the Akashi as well?"

The brunette nodded his head,and the redhead continued, quietly against the violent storm:

"I see. I don't discriminate against people like you, Kouki, but we're different. I don't understand what it's like to be you, and you don't know what it's like to be me--and how is a successful relationship supposed to exist between two people that can't understand each other? How am I supposed to fit in your world, and you in mine? What would my father think? My colleagues think? My classmates at Rakuzan think?"

"My father's kind enough to tolerate my homosexuality, but he also warned me that I needed to find someone worthy of my attention, that I can't just pick up any man I find. I don't know you very well, Kouki, and even though I'm sure you are a very kind-hearted individual, I can't just fall in love with you just because you have done so with me. Not to mention that it wouldn't do me good to fall in love with you." Akashi leaned back, locked his eyes into Furihata's, and groaned."It's useless to try and explain this to you." He said, "It's not like you and I belong in the same world."

It's not like you and I belong in the same world.

Suddenly, it sunk in. They don't belong in the same world. Furihata could tell that the red haired male didn't intend to hurt him, and even if he did, it couldn't erase the fact that they were horrifically different. It's simply normal for Akashi Seijuurou to walk around golden halls and to be driven around by a chauffeur, just like it's simply normal for Furihata Kouki to struggle to even feed his family. Akashi is born to be the star of the game, while Furihata had to struggle to even be in it-- Call it unfair, but they live in two worlds, and even if Akashi was so kind as to accept his confession, there was no way that Furihata's would fit in his world. After all, Furihata's doesn't even know how to use a fork and a knife.

They are so different, and suddenly Furihata is reminded of how pathetic he is. Surely, Akashi could, and have charmed a lot of people in Rakuzan--who is Furihata to compare to them? Furihata doesn't know anything, why would Akashi choose him over someone who has a better understanding of his circumstances?

"S-so it's a n-n-no?" The brunette muttered.

"P-please, Kouki. Don't take this the wrong way. I'm not saying that you are worthless, I'm simply trying to say that we're not compatible, even though I don't dislike you as a human being. I appreciate your talent and your perseverance, it's just that some external factors prevent us from coming together as a couple."

"I-I see..."

"This relationship would be troublesome to the both of us; there is nothing to gain, but there is a lot to be lost."

Everything about him would be trouble to Akashi.

There is nothing to gain, but a whole lot to lose.

By the time he came back to his senses, tears were dropping down his eyes.

"Are you okay?" The Rakuzan captain frantically yelled as his firm hands grabbed the sides of Furihata's head. Upon seeing the droplets of liquid, however, he let go and stood back with a guilty expression. "Furihata-kun. " He eventually said, worriedly, "If you want to, we can send you home in our car--"

"N-no thanks..." Was his reply, and he forces a smile as...more tears fall, "t-that would be troubling you."

Electricity sporadically covered the grey sky and Furihata's vision. A thick line of white reached down, and lit all of Seirin up in white as it formed a connection to the ground. That light engulfed both him and Akashi as they turned to examine it, and a strange sort of release washes over the unfortunate brunette as a tall tree crashed upon the the ground near and resounded in this wet, wet city. Closing his eyes, Furihata's felt his mind go blank and a wave of raw sadness wash over him. Covering his face, Furihata dashed away as fast as he can, and Akashi didn't move to chase him.

He almost thought Akashi would.

Heh.

Holding back tears, Furihata uttered, more to himself than to be heard: "I'm sorry that I ever liked you, Akashi-kun. I'm so sorry."

* * *

 

The previously rowdy gym has faded into a state of tranquility within a matter of minutes. In fact, the moment the last spectator walked out of the exit this place lost its liveliness--it was designed to hold a large crowd, after all, and without it the colossal space felt far too large and empty for inhabitation. There's only so much noise and rambunctiousness that a team of no more than 20 could make, and currently Furihata didn't even have that; the only things that resonated about the tall baskets are dust, loss, and Furihata's rejection.

Raindrops poured behind him. Thunders rocked the sky. As Furihata dragged himself across the wooden floor, his footsteps echoed about the dark, hollow space, and the boy made one, two feeble steps before collapsing onto the ground in tears.

God, why was he so stupid? Why did he think, even for a second, that he would be able to even touch Akashi Seijuurou?

He forcibly pressed his hands against the eye sockets to thwart his tears, but the effort was futile--The teardrops rode on the edges of his hands and spread out through the entire face, reddening his face and making him look more like a rejected person than he already does. Wailing, he wanted to yell, to scream, to somehow let everything out, but he doesn't know what to yell or scream, so the voices became trapped in his chest and sends sharp, convulsing waves of pain throughout his body.

"Uhh" he groans, and the lonely stadium echoes it back.

Furihata never knew sadness could hurt so much, but this place certainly seemed to know otherwise.

Did everyone leave? Furihata doesn't know, and he doesn't care--maybe he should, because the last thing he wants is for other people to look down on him more--but the rejection has already taken over every inch of his consciousness, and he chuckles through his tears.

Even after he rejects you, he still reigns over your mind, eh?

But everything Akashi said was true--they are not compatible, they are completely different, there was no way that they would understand each other...and this is troublesome to the redhead, too. All he has done by confessing was to trouble Akashi.

"But he didn't have to say that..." the brunette whimpered to himself, and the stadium replied with a vague sounding "Hmm".

"He just said the truth, you know."

A voice inside him said, and Furihata thrashed around a bit in an attempt to get rid of that voice--but he can't deny it. Everything that Akashi said was true and Furihata should have given more thought to them before confessing; this isn't a fairytale, and Akashi's not a prince charming on a white horse--Akashi probably just wanted him to realize that.

Furihata chokes on his tears. Uhh...he bitterly thought, I'm not confessing to anyone, again, without certainty that they'll accept my feelings. In fact, I'm not going to confess anymore because God, being rejected hurts. With Koneko it was nicer because they remained friends and he wasn't that enamoured with her anyway, but when you stay up late thinking about someone only to be completely and utterly made a fool of--

It sucks.

Tired of trying to cover his tears, Furihata let his hands fall and just cries.

However, the cellphone in his pocket rang. The brunette ignored it for a while, but the phone had no intention of stopping. After it vibrated for a full thirty seconds, Furihata reached inside his pocket and fished it out.

It was from home.

Furihata quickly slid to the call button, brusquely wiping his tears on his sleeve. "Hello--"

"Kou-chan!" It was Megumi, and she was frantic, "Mom-mommy is--"

The girl chokes on something, and Furihata worriedly coos.

"Calm down," he said, trying to mask his tears--he is the oldest, after all, and he shouldn't cry over his own matters when his sister needs him--"what is it with mom?"

The little girl sniffled. "Mommy just fell." She muttered, "One of her bones broke and it hurts really bad."

The boy's his heart jumped up to his throat. "D-did she see a doctor?" He broke out.

"She did." Thank god, "And the doctor said that she is getting really sick."

"She already is really sick, Megumi."

"She's getting really really sick, Kou-chan--here, the doctor wants to speak to you."

"Give the phone to him." Kouki said as he scooped up his backpack and wobbled over to the nearest bench. As he sat down, he switched his ear and an adult male took Megumi's place. The boy politely greeted: "Hello doctor."

"You are Furihata Kouki, right?" The doctor's old, crinkled voice came through the receiver, "You were listed as your mother's emergency contact."

"Yes. This is he." Kouki replied.

The doctor coughed. "As your sister just said, your mother collapsed about ten minutes ago." He said, "Luckily, I was nearby on a house visit so the hospital sent me to check on her. Her patella has dislocated due to severe damage on the ACL, and all I did was move it to the correct position and bandage it in hopes that her body would heal on its own."

"Yes, thank you."

"Don't thank me, Furihata-San. It's what a doctor should do. But back to the topic of your mother--based on a preliminary diagnosis and what your sister has told me, her collapse is due to severe weakening of her skeletal system from her pld--"the man tried a couple times to pronounce the word, but ultimately failed, He sighed, and continued: "sorry, even doctors can't pronounce the name of her disease since it is so rare. But it has gotten worse."

Kouki rubbed his head--it hurts. "...Can it be cured?"

"With some new medication and a lot of luck--"

"How much would it cost?"

"Quite pricey, unfortunately. It has to be imported from America, and over there it costs about eight hundred dollars for a month's dosage."

The boy suddenly felt dizzy. That's another series that he would have to start on and another couple months without meat. "I see."

"I have informed your mother that she needs to move less or her bones and muscles will deteriorate even faster." The doctor continued, "Anyway, she is in no life-threatening danger at the moment, just that she won't be able to move at all."

"Thank goodness." Kouki didn't feel like thanking anyone at the moment, but he said it anyway.

The doctor paused, and Furihata heard the crinkling of paper before the doctor continued: "I'm sorry that I don't know your family very well, since I'm out your usual doctor--but it took your sister a very long time to find your phone number. It was unwise of your family to leave such a young girl alone with a sick person--Where is your father?"

"He's away in Kyoto for work."

"Hmm."

"To pay for the other medication she's taking."  
  
The other line suddenly went quiet, and Furihata wondered if he offended the doctor. Just as he prepared to utter an apology in response, the man muttered: "That is unfortunate."

Unfortunate.

That's what it is indeed.

After giving the doctor a curt goodbye, Furihata Kouki grabbed everything and decided to run to his house as fast as he can--by no means does he live close to the school, but Riko's demonic training now shows their benefits. If he was honest, he's sure that Megumi is fine and that Kokori is safe at her job, but the doctor's right--leaving a child alone with a sick person is not safe at all. Using a jacket as a temporary umbrella, Furihata Kouki took a deep breath, wiped his tears, and--

"Furi?"

The freshman turned around to find Riko standing behind him with Hyuuga and Izuki. He tensed for a second--because they could have seen him crying--but then his shoulders relaxed upon affirming, from their expressions, that they were just as surprised to see him.

"Furi?" Hyuuga called again, blinking in confusion, "Is that--Why are you still here?"

Furihata shrugged, forcing a smile. "I had something to do." He responded, "what about you guys?"

Riko bursts into a fake smile--the one she uses to fool people--and explained: "We had some things to do here too, Furi! Here, Hyuuga, Izuki" She grabbed their two comrades' arms, "Let's go--"

"Wait." Izuki stared at the female, "aren't we going to tell him?"

And the female paused, staring back at him incredulously. "The poor boy had enough to stomach for one day." She argued as another tree falls from the lightning, "I mean, it looks like he's been bawling all semester--do you really want to make things worse?"

"But he would need to know eventually."

"Save it for some other day, Izuki." Hyuuga said sternly, "We're all tired, and I'm sure that goes for Furi too."

The freshman, upon hearing that they had something to tell him, turned his body back in preparation for whatever the trio's going to say. "N-no, I'll be fine." He beckoned,"please, if you have something to tell me, please do."

His gut told him that they did not want to tell him anything good, because otherwise they wouldn't have looked so worried and Riko wouldn't have casted him a glance of pity. However, all he wants from them is the scathing truth; there's nothing Furihata Kouki hates more than other people pitying him, whether it be due to his family or his face or whatever--that's why, deep beneath everything, he didn't and could never hate Akashi for thoroughly crushing his dreams. Riko, on the other hand, looked hesitant about telling him the bad news.

"Furihata-kun," She uttered, "I-I'm sorry..."

The brunette smiled and walked closer to his coach. "It's okay, I'm going to be fine." He affirmed, "What do you want to tell me?'

Riko bit her lip, and Izuki looked into his junior's eyes for a brief second before he turned away and muttered "I can't do this". Furihata nervously lifted his head up to look at Hyuuga, and found the captain darting his eyes at every place but at him. Silence reverberated between them. Furihata swallowed. Eventually, Hyuuga was the one that took a deep breath.

He said: "Furi, you don't have to come to practice anymore.".

The freshman point guard blinked. "W-what?" He blabbered, confusedly, "B-but what about the compe--"

Then the realization hits him.

"Captain, y-y-you're not kicking me off of the team, are you?" Furihata asks, his mind going dizzy again.

Hyuuga looked at Riko, and Riko looked to Izuki. None of the three answered his question.

"P-please, t-t-this team is everything to me..."

"We're not saying that it isn't." Riko replied, tightening her expression a little bit, "It's just that...well, we think that you could use some time off. Judging from your performance today, you have been very sleep-deprived and didn't eat well for the past few weeks, and all three of us believed that it was due to your work. We understand--after all, family comes first and you're worried since your mother's sick and all--but it's having a detrimental effect on your body that I, admittedly, saw in training but never had the heart to tell you."

"I-I'll work harder. I'll cut off on some of the--"

"You don't have to cut off on anything. It is best to focus on one thing, instead of trying to juggle too many balls at once--it's not good for you, and you won't be able to do anything well this way. Tell me, how many practices have you missed and how many times have you cut short on cool-down?"

"I-I" Furihata sobbed, "p-please don't--"

The girl interrupted him, "Furi, we love you and we genuinely care for your well-bring," She said, crossing her arms as she looked into his desperate eyes, "but we're ultimately a competition team and we can't afford to have any of our member's priorities be on anywhere aside from basketball. You have talent, but Hyuuga, Izuki, Kiyoshi, and I have collectively decided that it would do you the most good to...take some time off of basketball."

"It's not a punishment, Furi." Hyuuga added, "all it means is that you don't have to come to practice anymore. We're still your friends--you can come to us any time you need."

"It would free up your time, Furi!" Izuki said, trying to comfort the freshman point guard, "Now you can actually focus on your work and not have to worry about the team! Anytime your family's situation gets better you can come back and--FURI!"

His voice was washed away as the brunette suddenly dashed into the rain. Hyuuga made the move to chase him, but Riko held him back.

"Let him be." She said quietly, "Furi needs to digest this information on his own."

* * *

 

Furihata cried as he dashed through the wet streets, not caring about the passerbys that stared strangely at him--he just couldn't care about anything right now. Tears were running down his reddeedn cheeks along with the precipitation, and they threatened to cover every inch of his trembling skin as his feet, wet from rushing past puddles, pushed his body towards some unknown destination with every jerky movement against the slippery ground.

He ran and ran and ran.

Why was he running? Why was he crying? Why didn't he say goodbye to his sempai? He doesn't even know. All he knew was that he had been talking maturely a second ago and Izuki sempai was being understanding and Coach was being strict, as always a-and only expressed understandable frustration about him missing practice lately. Sure, she was a bit loud and a bit harsh with her words but if he was in her situation he would have done the exact same thing and it's not like she intended to hurt him--

Legs finally gave out as he crashed into the ground. The boy groaned--some part of his body was bleeding, but he can't find the energy to move and care as every limb seemed to freeze over in cold and exhaustion. Where is he? Probably somewhere he shouldn't be, given how dark the place was and how little people are passing by him. He's alone.

Good.

A lightning hit the tree across from him, and the brunette boy unleashed every bit of tears that remained in his eyes. Why, why did he so dramatically run out the door just because Coach said that he can't be on the team anymore? She was right--he hadn't been putting much effort into basketball and if he can't handle the activities of the basketball team he shouldn't even be on it in the first place. Of course Riko-sempai, like every other senior in the team, was like an elder sibling to him and only wished for his best interest, but, like she said, the Seirin Basketball Team is ultimately a competition team and there's only so much crap that family can put up with before even they snap on you.

Before he knew it, he started to wail audibly against the ground, the combination of fatigue, disappointment, anger, and physical hurt converted into one giant gust of pain that gnawed of his consciousness. With each childish wail his tongue bathed itself in the dirty taste of the floor, and his voice bounced against the nearest walls, reverberating back into his ears which, for some reason, only made him cry harder and louder.

How pathetic. Furihata Kouki has lots of responsibilities, being a good member of the Seirin basketball team one of them, and he can't handle it so he's out here wailing like a newborn baby instead of apologizing, not that that would have helped anything .

\--Despite what he believed, he was a disappointment, a big one.

Why, why? Why can't he not let anyone down in his life for once? Why can't he be superman? Why can't he do everything? And don't tell him "You're only human" or "You're only a 16-year-old, after all" because he can't be just a human or a 16-year-old right now. It doesn't matter what he is. There are duties that need to be fulfilled, and in the face of them it doesn't matter whether he's a machine or he's a human 16-year-old or an alien or whatever--These duties need to be fulfilled, and he had failed to do so and had, therefore, failed his family and his teammates.

Now they had wasted 3000 yen on his outfit and Izuki-sempai will be without a prepared point guard.

The annoyance and self-hatred dripped off of his heart like acid, eroding his will and self-control. His throat was scratchy and raw and was probably going to bleed anytime soon, but Furihata kept on crying. He's not crying because he's angry at someone, or because he hates the way his life is going, or because his feelings were hurt--

He's crying because there's no one he hates more than his useless self right now.

The brunette kept on sobbing until he fell unconscious. As he closed his eyes, he registered some large guy walking over to his side.

\--

What the fuck am I doing, Haizaki Shougo thought.

He heard from some kids that there was a practice match between Seirin and Rakuzan today, so he went to check it out, and he was not disappointed by the presence of blood on Akashi Seijuurou's shorts. Therefore, with his interest piqued, he stayed a bit longer and looked at Furihata Kouki, since he's the only guy that Haizaki knows.

Yes, he technically knows Kuroko Tetsuya as well, but he has no interest in paying any attention to him, not that that's very hard to do in the first place.

His eyes followed Furihata until the match ended, and continued to watch from the sidelines as he proceeded to get rejected by both Akashi and his teammates. When the brunette boy ran out into the rain, Haizaki, for some reason, chased after him until the younger collapsed in an old factory.

Right now, he's passed out from crying. Haizaki sighed and squatted down beside the unconscious boy, examining his scraped forehead and his tear-ridden face. What a bunch of fucking jerks, the older man thought, and what a stupid kid. There's literally lightning hitting down everywhere, and you could have gotten electrocuted. It's not worth it to lose your life over something like rejection and being kicked off of a team.

He ran a large hand through the wet (but still fluffy) brunette hair, and allowed himself to feel something strange in his chest. Furihata's not waking anytime soon, Haizaki said to himself.

So he flipped the tiny brunette over and lifted him on his back, intending to get him home in this rain because if he doesn't, no one will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know...I kinda wanted Furi to suffer more, but I guess this is as good as I'm gonna do...
> 
> Thanks for reading! Leave a review if you have any suggestions, comments, or criticisms!


	21. Son of a Female Dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I have updated in a...relatively short time this time? Anyway, it seems that I have accidentally abused everyone's souls and made you guys hate Akashi in the last chapter, so this chapter is supposed to right these wrongs, at least a little bit? Anyway, I had, like, the worst writers block while writing this so I apologize for the bad writing in advance.
> 
> Happy reading! ^_^

Sparrows squeaked in the aqua-colored sky; in a certain townhouse, light the color of orange juice descended upon Furihata Kouki's skin. A couple of breakfast shops hollered beside emerald trees as the brunette stretched his arms out from beneath the quilt and, as he did so, a butterfly snuck into the cream-colored room through an open window through which the busy city faintly leaked through. 

Chocolate eyes blinked upon seeing the familiar ceiling. How did I get back here? He thought, The last thing I remember was crying myself to sleep in...

A truck clunked by, and the boy stared at it in wonder. Eventually, he hissed and pulled himself out of bed, ignoring the fact that he's reeling from an odd headache as well as a cut on his hand. Screw how he got here, he cursed as he resisted the urge to rub his sore eyelids, the traffic's sounding so that means he woke up a bit too late to cook breakfast today--

"Kou-nii!" Furihata Kokori burst through the door, presumably at the sound of his bed rustling. Upon seeing her brother off the bed, rose-colored eyes immediately widened with worry. 

"Don't move!" She barked, and Kouki blinked, surprised at his sister's loud voice.

"O-okay." He stuttered as she proceeded to rush to his side, her coarse hands quickly replacing a towel that was placed on his forehead and flipping open the quilt to examine some other parts of his body--namely his hand and his right knee. Upon deciding that there was nothing too wrong with her brother, the 13-year-old turned back to call their mother in. 

"Mom!" She yelled, "Kou-nii is okay!"

At that, Kouki's mother poked her head into her son's room. She let out a sigh of relief and, using a broom as a walking stick, began to slowly trudge over to her son's bed. After she reached it, the woman shakily touched her son's hand and, shaking his head, Kouki leaned into the touch. "Mom!" the boy lowly said, somewhat scoldingly, "Didn't the doctor tell you to move less?"

"Well, my precious son is sick--"

"And Kokori." He turned to his younger sister, incredulous, "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at scho--"

Rolling her eyes, Kokori made a "shut it" motion with her hand. "You fell on the road while running and had to be carried home by someone. As it turns out you have a fever, so I'm taking a break today to take care of you both."

"W-what--"

She snapped. "Zip it. I'm taking care of you today." 

And just like that she walked out the door. Kouki furrowed his eyebrows, and Mother sighed. 

"She's at that rebellious age." The woman lamented, unamusedly, "but that doesn't mean she doesn't worry about you and me. Honestly, when you came back yesterday bloodied with a fever, the girls actually fought over who's going to stay home and take care of you today, isn't that cute?"

Kouki groaned. "Mom," he tried to reassured her, "I'm going to be fine. It's just a fever--if I tough it out it will disappear in a couple of days."

The woman wagged her finger disapprovingly. "That's not how it works." She reprimanded. 

Suddenly, her limp body broke out in a coughing fit. Kouki quickly reached to smooth her out, but the woman shoved his hand away. "I'm fine.“ she continued, "But Kouki, here's another question I want to ask you. Why were you crying yesterday?"

The boy stood still. The understanding smile on his face froze, and he was at a loss of words.

"And don't tell me you didn't. I saw your puffy eyes."

Kouki looked into her eyes. After some arguing with himself, the boy sighed in defeat. He was going to try and explain it away, but he's not going to be able to fool her, of all people. His mother can read everyone like a book, and out of everyone, she knows Kouki the best. "I got rejected." He admitted.

The woman's eyes went wide. "...By whom?" she inquired, "a g-girl from your school?"

"N-no." Kouki laughed feebly, "he--I mean she's from Rakuzan. Actually, she's on the opposing team, and--

"Wait wait wait, how do you know a girl from Rakuzan? Isn't that a private school for the super elite in...Kyoto?"

"I saw her at a match, and Kuroko knew her from middle school so we talked a few times."

"And she's really pretty but also really intelligent, hence why you fell for her."

"Y-yeah." Kouki nodded, a little creeped out by the fact that his mother knew what type of girls he's into, "She's really h--I mean, pretty, and she's super smart, and she came from a rich family, like a really rich family. I mean, I guess I didn't really know her that well, but she was really nice and we talked before and I-I thought she liked me. T-then she rejected me so--so thoroughly and I..."

"What did she say?"

Kouki started, but, for some reason, he couldn't hold anything back. Like a waterfall, everything that Akashi said poured out of his mouth; he just talked and talked, and poured everything out until his memories of last night became something of a movie, emotionally moving but ultimately fake in the end. Smiling, the boy let out a breath as he completed the last bit of his narration. 

"So...yeah..."He finished, "That's how I got rejected--what do you think?"

...His mother wanted to say something, judging from her mouth that flapped open briefly before shutting close again; she grabbed at her hair, and looked at Kouki with a set of emotions that were passionate, but oddly jaded at the same time. Eventually, she sighed. She drew her eyes shut, as if she was in actual pain, and started, but leaned forward to give Kouki a hug instead as her words fell short. "I-I..." The woman muttered weakly, "I...I don't know what to tell you, Kouki. That was too harsh of a rejection, but...she was right. None of these things were false."

"Yeah, I know."

"But I wish she didn't have to point it out like that..." His mother actually began to sob, "I guess you two are really just not meant to be. B-but I genuinely think that you deserve better and to not have to get rejected for this, I mean it. You should be the head of some big family with lots of money at its disposal and never have to worry about this, And you can't, and I am so sorry for this."

Kouki chuckled. "Chill for a little, would ya, mom?" The boy jokingly admonished, "Now that I think about it, I'm a Little at fault too. I mean, I don't really even know her all that well, and it's a bit preposterous to expect her to know me well..."

"True, but you need to think about yourself more! You should have more confidence in yourself, and consider your own feelings before others. What you think is absolute."

"Mom..."

"You are the absolute!"

"I..." Kouki choked, on nothing, "I am the absolute?"

"Yes, you are the absolute."

Furihata Kouki looked into his mother's innocently adamant eyes and felt a strange sense of deja vu. Eventually, Kokori brought the breakfast and ushered a teary mom to her room. 

Before she left, the boy asked for his pencil, paper, and a mirror, and she walked to his desk without much question. 

"I guess you're starting a new series." She said as she brought them over, "But why the mirror?"

Sitting cross-legged in his bed, Kouki shrugged. 

Raising an eyebrow, Kokori didn't ask further. She placed all the items on a bed-table Fukuda gave to him as a gift, and left. After she left, the brunette looked into the mirror and smiled. 

"I am the absolute." He said, trying to do his best Akashi Seijuurou impression.

He laughed at how bad it is.

"I guess I'm not absolute after all."

 

\--

"A-choo!" a certain redhead suddenly sneezed. 

Reaching for a tissue to wipe away the snot, Seijuurou turned around and suspiciously stared out the car window. Upon deciding that there's no one worthy of worrying about here, he blankly narrowed his eyes and threw the soiled tissue into a portable trash can.

"What are you looking at, Seijuurou?" His father asked from beside him.

Why's he staring at nothing, you ask? Well, because a certain Midorima Shintarou had just sent him a message saying that he has the worst luck today, and even though the redhead's not a big fan of these horoscopes, it gets more than a little disheartening when you receive a message about your ill luck and then you actually have ill luck. I mean, everyone knows there's someone talking bad about you behind your back when you sneeze in strange situations.

"Shintarou just sent me a message about my ill luck today." Seijuurou told his father.

His father's eyes suddenly went wide. "Please, not you too, Seijuurou." He pleaded hopelessly, "I don't need another Oha Asa fan in my life."

Seijuurou chuckled. 

"I am not a particularly firm believer of the supernatural." He said, smiling a little at the soulless expression on his father's face, "But it gets a little scary when you sneeze in your father's expensive car seconds after you receive an ill omen."

"What's the correlation between these two things?"

"Well." He turned to his father, frowning, "For sure you know what happens when you sneeze?"

His father expressionlessly looked ahead. "No...I am afraid that I do not."

Seijuurou sighed. Old people. "That you sneeze when there's someone--"

"--talking bad about you behind your back." Masaomi finished, staring incredulously at his son as a truck drove behind them, "That's at least been around since when your grandfather was your age."

"..."

"..."

Slightly nonplussed at the fact that he didn't get to showcase his superior knowledge of pop culture, the younger Akashi crossed his arms. 

"And you said that you don't know about it."

"I knew about it. I simply was not aware that you knew about it as well."

The younger Akashi pouted as he leaned back, and peaceful (okay, maybe slightly passive-aggressive) silence took its rightful place between the two. Seijuurou turned and stared out the window, and as his sight landed on a glittering butterfly, he suddenly remembered something. The redhead turned to snatch a letter from his bag, but just as his fingertips touched the fabric of his backpack, he frowned because he unfortunately remembered that he didn't have said letter in there.

Because it hadn't arrived yet. 

He sighed.

The letter should have arrived the day of the competition, and, given that the replies usually came a day after Seijuurou sent his letter, Furiha-sensei replies immediately after he receives the letters--yet more proof that he is a diligent artist--but that's not the case today. Well, maybe he had something to do, Seijuurou thought, maybe it'll be here after he gets home from school. 

Still, he's already missing them. 

Suddenly, Seijuurou's phone vibrated, again. The redhead quickly swiped the unlock pattern and chuckled at yet another message from Shintarou. 

"Apparently my lucky item today is a red haired person." The message wrote, in perfect Japanese, "Where am I supposed to find that?"

"Kagami Taiga's nearby, isn't he?" Seijuurou replied, "Though I doubt that he would let you put him in your backpack."

A couple seconds passed before the next message came. "Still, I do not wish to associate with him unless absolutely necessary." 

"Then who are you thinking of, Shintarou?"

"Do you know another redhead, by any chance?"

Akashi Seijuurou paused.

"No I am afraid I don't."

"A selfie would do just as well, Akashi."

Seijuurou blinked. 

"If that was the case, you could have simply googled "redhead selfies" instead of pestering me, Shintarou..."

The messages stopped, and the redhead leaned back with a smile on his face. Oh Shintarou and his Oha Asa things.

He wouldn't call himself a fan of the show by any means, but these messages from the green-haired male has certainly been...endearing, shall he say? True, his obsession with horoscopes is a bit on the scary side, but he had never been too persistent with it so it was easy for Seijuurou to simply it as a quirk of his friend's. Plus, it was not that big of a hindrance--who could hate one or two quick messages about your lucky color? Honestly, he had no idea why Daiki and Ryouta felt the need to complain about it at every chance they get.

Speaking of his relationship with Shintarou...Just as he had anticipated before everything began, he and Shintarou get along very well as a couple. They had similar aspirations, similar hobbies, and shared similar views on everything. Yes, it was a rather large transition from friendship to something a bit more than that, but they were both working on it: Shintarou had somewhat learned to just let him be him, and Seijuurou, for the first time, didn't think of his romantic companion as a sexual outlet, once. Granted, it's not like Midorima Shintarou is someone that's easy to think about that way, but he was Seijuurou's dear friend, and the redhead actually cared about his feelings beyond that of sex.

It's a...strange change of scenery. Seijuurou supposed that a little bit of abstinence was not bad, but the sudden loss of sexual activity rendered him a little empty and itchy-hearted. Still, this kind of relationship provided him with a new kind of fullness that he didn't mind.

There are a few things he would like to change about his boyfriend but hey, changes come slow.

Morning traffic clogged the street they were traveling on, and as they made it into Downtown Kyoto, beeps rung in the air. From where he was sitting, Seijuurou could see drivers banging their heads against steering wheels in frustration at the slow pace. The elder Akashi, however, remained remarkably calm in all of this. As he got stuck in a traffic jam, again, after about three blocks in the congestion, he opened his mouth. 

"How did it go with Furihata Kouki?" 

The redhead opened his eyes in alarm.

"How did you know his name?"

"A girl..." Masaomi began, but shook his head, "never mind, it's a long story. Anyway, Mibuchi informed us that he had some business with you and I was merely curious on what that business is about."

Well, Seijuurou didn't want to tell him what that business was about. One, because no one wants their father to get in on their business and two, because come on, someone confessed to him! It's a part of his private life that he can just see his father judging behind his golden eyes. Nevertheless, he groaned because as he said before, Akashi Masaomi is a very curious man and he will get what he wants one way or another.

"He confessed." Seijuurou said.

The elder nodded. "I figured." He replied, and the younger facepalmed, "I hope...you said no?"

"Of course I did! Goodness sakes, what kind of man do you take me to be, father!"

"I am only making sure. So, how did it go?"

"How did what go?"

"The rejection. According to literary works and many police reportings, people get rather...emotional after they get rejected."

"Well..." Seijuurou paused, "It went well... I think. Kouki got the idea."

"Kouki?" Masaomi frowned, "That makes you two sound rather close."

The redhead sighed and turned to observe the receding trees. "I do find him endearing as a person." He said, unconsciously playing with the edges of his shirt, "He has potential as a basketball player, and he looks like a decent human being. It's just that he came from a rather low class in society and being together with him wouldn't benefit either of us in the long run. Plus, he is rather plain in both soul and face, and he doesn't know the first thing about running a business."

"I see. You didn't tell him all of these things, right?"

The Rakuzan school gate is within eyesight now, and Seijuurou crooked an eyebrow. "Of course I did." He said matter-of-factly.

And that caused Masaomi stared at him strangely. 

"...Forgive my rudeness, Seijuurou." He commented as he drove into the parking lot, "but wouldn't a simple "No" have sufficed?"

Looking at the line of cars in front of him, the younger half-heartedly admitted: "I suppose. But I felt like I ought to tell him a bit more about why we can't be together. I mean, I don't want Kouki to have any remaining feelings for me when I can't reciprocate them."

"Bu... that was a rather hurtful rejection, wasn't it?"

"Perhaps, but..."

The redhead sighed as he turned to the Windows, a strange feeling welling in his chest at the recollection of the event.

"To be honest, " he muttered, half to himself, "yesterday, I saw his confession coming. I wanted him to confess. I was a little glad, even, that he did what he did. Like I said, I do like him, hence why I don't want to give him any hope. I had to do what I had to do, but..."

Heterochromic eyes stared at his own reflection in the mirror, a certain brunette's tearful visage resonating in his memories like an unwelcome tune.

"When I rejected him, I felt guilty for the first time. W-why do I feel so guilty about it? Is it because I might have hurt him? But rejections hurt, that's a given, and I've hurt many people before. I can't accept the feelings of every single one of my admirers, and maybe I was a bit straightforward, but we ultimately live in a real world where more times that not love isn't as important as simple compatibility. Plus, love comes out of compatibility, so how are two people so different supposed to fall in love?"

Masaomi stayed silent. Eventually, he sighed as well. "Maybe it's for the best," he said, "although I am still of the opinion that a simple "no" would have done the trick just as well. Well, it's time for you to get to school."

 

\--

 

Kouki had wanted to come up with another story after breakfast--Eight hundred dollars is, after all, not a small amount--but everything hurts. His head, his throat, and last, but not least, his heart; they weren't quite on fire like they were yesterday, yet a layer of fog veiled over every inch of his consciousness and won't allow him to do anything other than to close his eyes and sleep. 

So he does just that, slipping in and out of various realms between dreams and reality, all of which either had to do with Akashi or the fact that his legs are wet and rubbing uncomfortably against the heavy quilt. 

At sometime during lunch, Kouki woke up with a heartbeat so intense that it coursed through his auditory tubes. He sat up in a sweaty mess of arms and fabrics, and immediately reeled from a pounding headache as he reached for his cellphone. As expected, there were a load of messages from Koneko, Fukuda, Kawahara, and...even one from Kagami! Groaning, Kouki cursed himself for sleeping this morning away. 

Deft fingers unlocked the screen to reveal, first, a message from Koneko. "Furi are you okay?" She asked. Following it were several repetitions of the same message, with the addition of some more question marks. Well, better late than never. 

"Have a fever." Kouki typed with his sweaty fingers.

Seconds after he sent that message, he got a call from the girl herself and, laughing, Furihata picked it up. "He--"

"YO!" She half-screamed from the other side, "Furi! Are you okay? Why didn't you come to school and didn't reply to any of my messages this morning? Did you get sick--"

"Woah woah stop there," The boy held the receiver away from his head for a second, "Read my message, Koneko-chan..."

"...Oh." The girl stopped, and a couple clicking noises were heard on the other side, before she responded incredulously, "You have a fever? Please tell me you didn't run back in the rain."

"Yeah, I did."

"Why?"

"Well, Akashi rejected me, and a lot of stuff happened so I guess I needed to let off some steam..." 

Koneko fell silent, and Furihata's tone fell quieter as well at her silence. "...Koneko-chan?" He inquired, almost like a whisper, "are you there?"

The sound of some girls gossiping leaked through from the other side. Furihata heard Koneko take a deep breath before she bellowed, her voice so low that the boy could barely recognize her: "So he rejected you?"

"Y-Yeah."

"...That son of a bitch."

"What?"

"THAT FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!" The girl screamed, "WHAT THE FUCK, HE WAS TOTALLY FLIRTING WITH YOU! WHO THE HELL FLIRTS WITH SOMEONE HE'S GOING TO REJECT? WHO THE FUCK WALKS A HALF-GROWN ASS MAN HOME WITHOUT WANTING TO GET IN HIS PANTS? WHO THE FUCK GOES "HEY LITTLE MAMA LEMME WHISPER IN YOUR EAR" TO EVERYONE THEY MEET?"

"K-Koneko-chan!" He yelped, trying to calm her down, "H-he wasn't, he was just--"

"WHAT KINDA SCUM SENDS MIXED SIGNALS LIKE THAT? HE JUST GAVE ME THE DEATH GLARE FOR NOTHING? DOES THIS FUCKING ASSHOLE HABITUALLY GLARE AT PEOPLE AND SCARE THEM HALF TO DEATH?"

"K-Koneko-chan..."

"DOES THIS CUNT FULL OF SHIT KNOW HOW FUCKING LUCKY HE IS FOR CATCHING MA BOY'S FANCY? WHO THE FUCK DOES HE WANT INSTEAD? FURI PLEASE TELL ME HE DIDN'T GO ON AND ON ABOUT HOW DIFFERENT YOUR FAMILIES ARE DURING THE REJECTION?"

"Well, he did, but--"

"WHAT? WHO THE FUCK DOES THAT? OH OF COURSE AKASHI SEIJUUROU DOES! OH FURI, MA BOY, YOU BETTER NOT BE CRYING OVER HIM, BECAUSE ANY WORTHLESS, EGOTISTICAL SCUM OF THE EARTH LIKE HIM WHO ACTUALLY HAS THE NERVE TO REJECT MA FURI SHOULD SUFFER FOR EVER AND EVER IN A HOT CAULDRON! SHAME ON HIS MOTHER! SHAME ON HIS FATHER! SHAME ON HIS COW!"

"W-wait--"

"IT'S OKAY, FURI! IT'S NOT LIKE YOU NEED HIS TWO INCH DICK ANYWAY."

"Koneko-chan," Furihata shook his head helplessly, even though she couldn't see him, "I can literally hear other people staring at you from my bedroom..."

"...Oh." The girl paused, and some silence passed before she opened up her mouth again. "...Well, let them hear. It's not like I care."

Yeah, that's what she said. Furihata silently snorted. Her voice totally went quiet after she got noticed. 

But he grinned anyway. "T-thanks. I guess."

"By the way, I seriously meant it when I said don't cry over him. It's not worth it over someone who is an ABSOLUTE dick like him."

"Don't worry." He laughed, "I'm just resting my fever. Speaking of which, I need a new idea for another series, will you help me with it?"

Koneko laughed too. 

"Of course darling." she replied sassily, "Anytime. Though not now because a teacher is calling for me--shit."

Furihata bid farewell and clicked the red button, not able to hide his smile as he did so. For some reason, talking with Koneko made him feel better--Even though Furihata doesn't hate Akashi and really doesn't think that he's a bad guy, it still felt incredibly pleasant when someone called the redhead a son of a bitch for rejecting him. Even though it's not right, it still felt good to trash-talk people that have wronged you. Sighing, he checked the next contact.

It's Fukuda.

...Oh boy.

Gulping, the brunette forced a smile onto his face as he dialed the number. How am I supposed to explain to him, and probably Kawahara? He internally panicked, they think that I already have a girlfriend, not that I want them to know about Akashi anyway.

"Furi?" Fukuda's characteristically deep voice came through the receiver, and so did Kawahara's cheery one, "Are you okay?"

Furihata coughed. "Yeah!" He replied with fake enthusiasm, "I'm completely fine!" 

He winced at how bad that was, and, judging from his silence, Fukuda winced too. "...No you're not." he said sharply, "If you were, you wouldn't be out for the entire day."

"Uh...Hehe..."

"Furi," beside Fukuda, Kawahara's voice turned serious as well, "here's another question. We talked to Takatsuki Koneko-chan after the game yesterday and she said that you two weren't in a relationship. So who was that special person you wanted to impress, and why didn't you tell us about her?"

Furihata paled at the accusatory tone in his voice. Oh god. At the impending doom, his heartbeat suddenly picked up pace and his chest started hurting again. His mind that wasn't thinking clearly a second ago was now hyperventilating to find a somewhat reasonable excuse--

But that just ultimately resulted in his clumsy lips not being able to say anything. "U-uh--" Furihata stuttered.

The small center sighed at his silence. "Furi, why do you never tell us anything? Your work, how tired you are, your crush--Aren't we your best friends?"

And Furihata stilled, a pang of guilt hitting him at the reality of the statement. Wordlessly, he stayed silent, and had no idea how long it passed before he managed to open his mouth again. "I-I'm sorry..." He uttered, but Kawahara hissed, and Fukuda took over. 

"It's fine, don't apologize." The center said, "We both have known you too long to expect you to come to us with all your problems. In fact, if one day you came up to us and started whining about how sad you are we would take you to a mental hospital--You never complain to others, and that's what I, at least, like about you. It's just that...we care about you. We want to help you, but we can't if you don't tell us anything."

"So the next time you have a crush on someone." Kawahara teased, "tell us about her, okay?"

Fukuda snorted. "Or him."

The brunette boy's beating heart almost stopped. 

"Y-you guys...?"

Kawahara sighed. "When we left the gym, we saw you talking to Akashi. You have the pre-confession look on your face--and yes, Furi, you have a pre-confession look--so we both knew what was coming. And...actually, we were listening on you and Takatsuki-chan's conversation earlier--"

"--It was impossible to not listen in on it--"

"--so, uh...We guess that it didn't go well..."

For god's sake, Furihata's getting a little dizzy at this violent turn of events. He turned to lie down in his bed again and put the phone to his ear beside a fluffy pillow. "...Yeah." He muttered, eyes wet for some reason, "I-I didn't want to tell you guys because I was afraid t-t-that you two would f-find me weird or something..."

The line went quiet. 

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Fukuda asked incredulously: "...You thought that we would discriminate against you, our dear friend since primary school, just because you prefer a man's company over a woman's?"

Uhh, well yeah. Parents have kicked kids out over it.

"Y-yeah."

Two simultaneous groans were heard on the other side. Kawahara presumably put a hand over the cellphone, and hissed: "I told you that we should have told him earlier."

"B-but I was scared too!" Fukuda was definitely shaking his head, and Furihata Kouki mused about the fact that his phone was too good for convenience. 

"Well now why did you expect him to be completely honest with us when we can't be honest with him?"

"I-I don't know?"

Furihata coughed, bringing the attention back to him. "Wait wait wait wait." He asked confusedly, "What?"

Both people hesitated. Some more awkward silence passed between them before Kawahara, ultimately, spoke up. "I'm afraid we have a little announcement to make, Furi." He said, "Fukuda and I, we've been, uhh, going out for at least a couple of weeks now."

Wait, what.

"Since when?"

"The winter cup. The battle against Rakuzan really made us, uh...bond. So we're all gay here."

OH MY GOD! Furihata screamed in fanboyish happiness, so his gaydar was perfectly working with them! He wasn't being a bad friend by fantasizing about them as a couple, he was being a prescient sage of the homosexual arts! They WERE screwing each other! Well, maybe not "screwing", but "tenderly exchanging personal information"! So all of his ideas are perfectly legit now! Kawahara walking Fukuda home from school, study sessions together---

"AHH!" he squealed as he jumped off of his bed, "OH MY GOD, CONGRATULATIONS! I totally ship you two!" In his jubilee, he hopped up and tapped his heels like Dorothy in Alice in Wonderland--oh wait, nevermind, he's too excited about the first gay couple he personally knew to correct that last sentence.

"What does ship mean?"

"I have no idea."

Furihata's left hand lifted up to flap about excitedly while his right hand reached for a pencil. Oh, he's so going to milk them dry. Does Semen actually make the uke's tummy go all weird? How badly does it actually hurt to be the bottom for the first time? What position is the most comfortable? Ooh, who's the seme and who's the uke here?

Fukuda panicked at the shuffling sounds on Furi's side. "Furi, Furi, are you okay?" He frantically yelled, "Don't get too excited! Rest! You probably have a fever!'

Kawahara laughed. "It's okay, Hiroshi." He said soothingly, "It's at least better than him sulking over Akashi, isn't it?"

Furihata suddenly paused. Suddenly, a warmness overwhelmed him, and he felt like crying again. "T-thank you." He started to sob, "I d-don't know why it hurts so much, I mean I had seen it coming but..."

"Shh, it's okay." the small forward soothed, "Confessions are scary, especially between guys, precisely because it hurts so much to get rejected. You confessing took a lot more courage than I thought you were capable, and words cannot describe how much I want to punch Akashi's decent-looking face for rejecting you, but it's okay, you'll get over it. I know you will."

The center added: "Don't worry about it. You're stronger than you look, Furi. If you can handle your mother's crippling illness, you can handle a rich son of a bitch not seeing what's good for him. Just wait, the day will come when he'll regret it like nothing else."

Shakily, warm tears trailed down Furihata's face. He quickly wiped it with his sleeve as his nose sniffled, wet lips subconsciously muttering another nasal "thanks" because that's all he could say in the face of the overwhelming gratefulness he felt. After the two hung up, Furihata laid his head back and began to cry to his heart's content; not because of sadness like yesterday, but because he had such great friends and he didn't know it. 

For some reason, he is just a mess of emotions right now--on one hand, he's exulted for Fukuda and Kawahara's newfound love for each other, but on the other he's so inexplicably happy because he knew that they would continue to support him regardless of relationships and ill-kept secretes; Fukuda and Kawahara, as well as Koneko, are just that--friends that would always be on his side and would always help him back up even if he screws up in the worst way possible. 

Wobbling to his desk, Furihata grabbed a napkin, absent-mindly taking note of a large cornrowed male that walked on the street below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> QAQ What is plot development? What is pacing? What are characterizations and what are decent descriptions? I don't know...*sobs* I had literally zero inspiration for this chapter, but please don't beat me, I am only human. T_T
> 
> If you have any criticisms, comments, or suggestions, please don't be afraid of leaving a review! Thank you for reading my fanfic!


	22. Why not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> QAQ You guys don't remember me anymore, do you...? I haven't updated in a semester because damn, college is tough ;-; and also physics. I hate physics. I might not update for another really long period of time, but I won't give this fic up...just prepare to wait perhaps four years for this to be finished ;-; I am ashamed, but I can't help it. And next semester's not looking too well either.
> 
> QAQ I wrote most of this in a single day, so please forgive me if my writing sucked more than usual. I also might not be able to get another chapter out until Christmas.

Today's a hot day.

 

The incandescent orb hung high in the cloudless sky, blending into the cerulean backdrop as the combination of heat, light, and a copious amount of UV rays gave the nondescript roads a nauseatingly warm quality; the entire panorama glowed a pale yellow under the merriment, and Haizaki Shougo paused for a second to wipe his brow above the concrete sidewalk. He's clothed in a barely worn, yet nonetheless trashy-looking school uniform as sweat trickled down his back, and the cracked backpack does not help his fatigue as he seeked something, anything to sit down in. 

 

He huffed as he looked at the sun--apparently, noon is time when the sun's the hottest but he, being Haizaki Shougo, failed to remember that.When a convenient bench popped up near him, the tall male collapsed onto it and frantically ripped off his uniform. One or two buttons broke free under the pressure, and Haizaki savoured the feeling of air on his skin for a second before he contemplated his next course of action.

 

He escaped from school (even though he was never, mentally, there in the first place), and that had been a satisfying endeavour back when he was trapped among judgmental teachers and classmates, but what now? Where should he go? 

 

Should he go to Maji Burgers? But he went there yesterday, the day before, and the day before that, and there's only so many meals you can enjoy there before even the most delicious shakes get bland. He could go to the park, but it's blazing hot there and what's he going to do besides scaring off a bunch of kids? (despite what you may think, Haizaki doesn't take pleasure in scaring little kids. Well, not the ones that would go to a park at this time of day, anyway.) Arcade? He had beaten all the games when he's in middle school, and they lost their charm a long time ago--but at least there's air conditioning.

 

A truck clunked by while grey eyes stared blankly ahead. Perhaps, a voice in his head muttered, you should go to the basketball court. 

 

You could always play with those stay-at-home dads that frequent it nowadays and pick the sport right back up, since it didn't take you too long to master it in the first place. Yeah, it's hot there, but Teiko’s gym didn't get air conditioning until your second year and you never minded--Something about adrenaline blocking out all other senses--and you did genuinely like the sport.

 

Maybe he really should do that. After all, basketball's one of the very few things he's actually good at. 

 

Haizaki sighed and closed his eyes; he breathed, allowing air to pass in and out through his chipped lips, and though his mouth soon grew dry with the influx of impurities, it felt oddly pleasant.

 

But for some reason, he hasn't been able to pick up a basketball since Nijimura left for America. Actually, not since Akashi became captain.

 

Nijimura. Haizaki thought, I wonder how that bastard's doing? 

 

He hopes the guy’s old man's okay. What horrible kind of illness did he get for him to be sent to America, anyway? Speaking of which, is Nijimura playing basketball in America now? He’s certainly talented--it’s just that it wasn’t always recognized, whatnot with the rainbowheads and all. Is he coming back to Japan again? The tall male hopes not not--For some reason, he doesn't want to let Nijimura see him: Not like this, not ever. While Haizaki likes to--fondly--reminisce about him, he doesn't want to go back to that time again.

 

A flash of brown interrupted the male’s daydream, and Haizaki blinked once, twice, before finally recognizing what that was.

 

Ahh, it's the neighborhood chihuahua! Haizaki lifted his head to flash the little fellow a quick grin, but just as lightly as he skittered into Haizaki's view the canine left, pattering away on four paws, and the tall male was left staring in the direction he had gone in. 

 

A zephyr came and rang some silver windbells hanging about doors--Haizaki shivered, but did not put his uniform back on--old townhouses looked like fresh daisies beneath lemonade colored light and blue skies, and even the grey shadows that lingered beneath the sprinkle of sunlight felt somewhat warmer in comparison to its usual state. The tall male stared at the front porch of a townhouse, and sitting behind a glazed rocking-chair was an odd sense of peace that made Haizaki smile. He’d recognize that house anywhere.

 

Furihata’s.

 

Maybe Haizaki should go visit him, you know, to check how he's doing and stuff. Grey eyes quickly located the place that he had dropped Furihata off at yesterday, and large, sneaker-covered feet scuffled toward it.

 

And, suddenly, he paused. A strange, uncomfortable feeling seeped into his muscles.

 

As nice as Furihata--and to be honest, his family--was, they're really not his type of people. As much as they would try to say otherwise, they didn't like him--and why would they? Anyone's first response at seeing someone like Haizaki bring back a fainted relative would be to turn pale in the face and wonder what the tall male did or, in Furihata Kokori’s case, grab a kitchen knife and try to stab him. Sure, she apologized, and he could go and try to remedy their connection by being caring but what good would it do? After what happened yesterday, Furihata’s mom would feel obligated to let him see Furihata, who would in turn feel obligated to be nice to Haizaki--and that really worth it for them? To be honest, Haizaki didn't do what he did because he was nice, it was just because Furihata didn’t deserve what had come to him that day.

 

Would they even want a connection with someone like him? 

 

Sighing, Haizaki turned away, deciding to go back to his house instead.

 

Still, the Furihatas’ house was the nicest, warmest place he had seen. Love reeked through every crevice, even if everything in there was second-hand--which doesn’t mean a lot coming from him, he’s aware--and Shougo sighed as he turned on his heels. He loves that place so much, and he would rather spend every minute of his life there, but what choice does he have? Already smelling the dark stench inside his house even before he was anywhere near the door--a couple dead rats and feces, human or otherwise, lying in a pile somewhere--Haizaki pushed down the feeling of disgust as he, begrudgingly, walked toward his new destination. 

 

Suddenly, everything looked grey, and the sun's warmth was replaced with a bored sense of coldness.

 

Then his phone beeped. 

 

Haizaki paused, and fished his phone out of his pocket. He looked at it, and smirked as he read the name.

 

Hanamiya. 

 

Well, guess that means he won’t have to go back to that rat’s nest for the day.He unlocked the screen and quickly read the message: 

 

“Me and a couple of my friends are at Maji Burger. Wanna Come?”

 

No, but he has nothing else to do.

 

\---

 

Maji Burger's was empty at this hour, save for the few cashiers that loitered comfortably behind the wooden counter. Sunlight dimly reflected off of red leather seats, and the fluorescent lights were switched off, causing parts of the room to glow ever-so-slightly while a brilliant blue lit up the everything from the window. In an odd way, everything was both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time; Haizaki had been long-acquainted with the worn-out couches, the greasy plastic desks, and the tiled floor beneath his feet...but without the buzzing noise and the swarm of people, the place lost its quintessential fast-food quality, a sweet, almost intimate air taking its place. Suddenly, Haizaki doesn't mind staying here a while--

 

But he's here for someone.

 

When he stepped foot into the fast food restaurant, one of Hanamiya’s homies--one he didn't see back when he and Hanamiya first met--noticed him first. “Woah Hanamiya!” he practically screamed as Haizaki sat next to him, “You were friends with Haizaki Shougo? Since when!” 

 

Silver bangs coated his face, and as Haizaki walked over to the table the guy's eyes actually began to glitter, as if he had just seen his favorite idol. He frantically flipped his head of mopey silver hair back and forth between Haizaki and Hanamiya, eagerly awaiting an answer.

 

The other guys, on the other hand, just looked mildly amused. One of them--who Haizaki really had no better way of describing other than the “normal, not pissed-looking one”--made a little waving gesture, which Haizaki returned, while an orange-haired dude broke out in monkey-like laughter. 

 

The mopeyhead blushed some more beneath the attention, and Hanamiya stopped his conversation. Staring into Haizaki's Grey orbs, he smirked.

 

“For a while,” he replied, grinning, “but you better be grateful. Mr.Grey here is quite a tsundere.” 

 

Haizaki raised one of his eyebrows. 

 

“Who the fuck’s a tsundere, eyebrows?”

 

Chuckling like a hyena, the pale man fell back into the leather seat and crossed his arms in front of him. “See?” He shook his head and grabbed another bite of his burger, “told ya. He’s a real--”

 

“So what brings you here today, Haizaki-san?” The normal, not-pissed looking guy asked, interrupting whatever unholy shit that would have came out of Hanamiya’s mouth, “And I don’t think I introduced myself properly last time” he smiled, stretching out a hand, “I’m Kojiro, Kojiro Furuhashi.”

 

Haizaki gaped a little at the polite tone.

 

“...Nice to meet you.” he said, eventually, “ As you know, I’m Haizaki Shougo, and I’m just here to kill some time. And please don’t call me Haizaki-san--I’m, what, no older than everyone else here?”

 

“But you’re, like, everyone’s senior in basketball!” the mopeyhead blurted out, tilting his head upward and revealing his--god damn, those are some beautiful eyes--eyes that looked at Haizaki with far too much admiration than he’s accustomed to. 

 

And the taller male instinctively scooted outward as Hara opened his mouth. Suddenly, his heart began to pound, a bit too hard and nervously for his liking. As the kid’s face lit up, Haizaki struggled to come up with a response; his head was spinning in joy--after all, he's really not used to being idolized or complimented; that’s more Kise’s job, in Teiko or not.

 

“O-oh.” he managed to squeak out, “h-hi, nice to meet you, Hara.”

 

Seeing his poorly veiled enthusiasm, Hara’s face lit up. Smiling, he turned his head back, and the former Teiko member sighed in relief, but, nevertheless, felt incredibly lame for some reason. Reaching over to snatch a fry from Hara’s plate, he chewed the stolen food and commented: “Ya know, I wasn’t expecting you guys to know me. I was no generation of miracles, after all.”

 

Across from him, Kojiro rolled his eyes. “Please. Anyone who paid attention to basketball beyond what was covered in magazines knew you.”

 

“Which was not a whole lot of people, but it included all of us.” the orange haired guy spoke up, twirling his index fingers to better illustrate “all of us”, “but Hara’s just your special little fanboy.”

 

Hara reached out a hand to shut him up, but the guy shoved his hand away, laughing. 

 

“I’m Hiroshi Yamazaki, by the way.”

 

“...Nice to meet you, Hiroshi.” promptly ignoring what went on in the background, Haizaki acknowledged as he grabbed another fry, “I appreciate it. I mean, I didn't think that you guys would care about stuff like that.”

 

Hanamiya blink. “What, why?” asked the black-haired man, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion, “We punch and trip people, but we know good players when we see them.”

 

“Yeah, yeah!” Hiroshi stopped his banter with Hara to nod fervently, “I mean, just because we can’t stand a couple of Mary-Sue brats doesn’t mean we don’t love a good game of basketball. I mean, you fucking went to school with Kuroko Tetsuya! You must have wanted to punch him at some point, right?”

 

“Hmm.” 

 

Haizaki reached to grab another fry, but Hara slid the plate away. He tskked as the cornrowed male turned to inspect the surprising lack of food. “Haizaki-kun,” the silver-haired man pouted disapprovingly, “I’m your number one fan, but I’m bloody broke and you have to pay for your own food!” 

 

“Oh come on!”

 

“This is my lunch, bro!”

 

“But it’s a symbol of closeness from me!” Haizaki cried exasperatedly, “I only take food from people I like! For example, I’d never take food from creepy eyebrows over there--”

 

“Creepy eyebrows” glared at his guest and kicked him from under the table. “Hey hey hey, watch your fucking mouth.” Hanamiya hissed, lifting up a hand to caress those well-endowed eyebrows, “fucking mention my eyebrows one more time and I’ll make sure you can’t walk for the rest of the day.”

 

“Oh really.”

 

“Oh yeah.” 

 

Haizaki shivered at the sadistic look in his eyes. “No thanks.” He replied, jumping off of the seat, “I’ll get myself some food.”

 

Hanamiya smirked behind him as he walked toward the counter. 

 

Since he’s already there, Haizaki decided to order a quick burger and some fries. While the employees prepared the meal, the former Teiko member decided to stand there for a bit and observe everyone instead of returning to his seat.

 

You know, even though the Kirisaki Dai Ichi basketball team has a reputation of being collectively scary-looking, everyone aside from Hanamiya looks pretty normal. There’s an aged, heavy look to all of their features, but if you actually look at their faces, individually, none of them are particularly nightmare-inducing: Hara could be relatively endearing with those eyes if he just cut those monstrous bangs, and Hiroshi has this constantly confused, yet mischievous look about him that's pretty cute as well. (Yes, Haizaki thinks they’ll look good in a Furiha Kou story) Kojiro, well, just kinda looks like a background character, but background characters are good in comparison to villains, right?

 

Hell, if they just chose to hang with someone else instead of Hanamiya…

 

Hell--

 

Pausing, Haizaki nearly screamed at his new revelation. What the hell. He just thought--for only a second, thank god--that Hanamiya Makoto could be decently attractive. 

 

Now that he had taken a closer look, the guy has a small, heart-shaped face that's characteristic of many female movie stars. His unisex haircut does nothing short of highlighting those large eyes and an oddly delicate nose, and every time he closes his eyes long, thick eyelashes brush against each other with a strange kind of charm. Flawless pale skin contrasted sharply against thick, black brows, and pink lips still look decently--Haizaki almost puked--kissable despite callouses that had grown around the edges. 

 

Fine, if he could just pluck those stupid eyebrows and lose the smirk Hanamiya Makoto would be a really handsome person. 

 

But, of course, note the coulds and the woulds; yes, Hanamiya could have been decently charming, but none of these charming physical traits are really visible anymore. Unless you take a good 30 seconds to scrutinize his face like Haizaki just did, you wouldn't notice any of these lovely little things he just mentioned; instead, all you would have been able to see was a jaded kind of wickedness. Large, black irises had been habitually turned up to stare at people with disdain, and thin lips have lost their ability to genuinely smile. Every curve of his mouth now spells a sneer, and a constant shadow hangs over the pale features, as is not the case with his friends, and Haizaki can't help but wonder, seriously, what the fuck Hanamiya did to so utterly ruin those fine features.

 

“Haizaki?”

 

Haizaki turned his head back to come face to face with the cashier, who has his meal in hand. Nodding, He handed the cashier a couple of crumpled-up bills, grabbed the meal, and slowly returned to the now very lively table. Hanamiya raised an eyebrow when he sat down again, but didn’t say much more aside from a raise of those monstrous eyebrows and instead settled for silently watching as his friends continued to bicker.

 

“Dude, what did you say?” Hiroshi screamed, his cheeks puffing out: “I totally got to bang that girl from 3-3 yesterday! What do you mean I’m her second choice?”

 

Hara blew a big bubble--wait, he had gum in his mouth this entire time?--and grinned mischievously before actually opening his mouth to reply. “You know who her number one idol is, right?”

 

“What? Why does that matter?”

 

“Ahh...you poor, ignorant child…”

 

“TELL ME HARA!” Hiroshi’s face went red as he shook Hara’s shoulders violently, “WHAT THE FUCK DOES ANYTHING HAVE TO DO WITH ME BANGING HANA!”

 

“Ha ha ha, nothing, if you so desire~”

 

“FUCK YOU!” Hiroshi grabbed a trash bag and chucked it at Hara’s face, who looked terrified while both Hanamiya and Kojiro snickered. 

 

Haizaki, on the other hand, is just confused. “Wait wait wait,” He interrupted, raising one hand, “So Hiroshi banged this slut and...she likes some idol? Big deal, all girls have a boner for pretty faces. Who doesn't?”

 

Temporarily pausing his torment on poor Hara, the orange-haired boy nodded violently. “Yeah!” He agreed, letting go of the trash bag in his hand, “Y’all are just jelly-beans cause I had sex with those boobs.”

 

“But…” the edges of Hanamiya's brows went down in mock pity, “Takamori Hana is… Oh, Kojiro, I can't do this…”

 

“JESUS CHRIST JUST--”

 

“Hana-chan's a well-know Kise Ryouta fan.” Kojiro deadpanned, eyes blank but cheeks puffing up with way too much joy, “And if you bothered to look you’d find his face on her underwear.”

 

“W-wha…”

 

“I think she might have sent a death threat to his supposed girlfriend,” Hara added, chuckling in mock innocence, “who turned out to be his basketball captain that visited his house a couple times. Seriously, though, didn't she bother to look at the name when she sent the letter? In what world is “Kasamatsu Yukio” a girl’s name?”

 

Hanamiya smirked in reply. “Didn't she also try to stab Aomine Daiki with a pen for “breaking his heart” after the Kaijo vs Touou game?”

 

“Yeah, she also confessed to him there, again, for the fifth time in a year. Got into a mob fight against Kise’s other fangirls.”

 

Haizaki snickered like a bitch as Hiroshi’s face turned into stone. However, he still felt a pang of pity for this guy. Man, he thought, talk about sticking your dick in crazy. She must have been hot--most crazy Kise Ryouta fans are, for some reason.

 

”…Hara, Hanamiya…” the cornrowed male interrupted what’s definitely starting to constitute as verbal torture, “I think Hiroshi gets the idea…”

 

The two boys, as well as Koiiro, stopped talking. They simultaneously stared at the cornrowed male, and, eventually, Hanamiya began to chuckle. “Aww Mr. Grey, you’re so sweet.” He raised an eyebrow, “It's disgusting, stop it.” 

 

Hara, on the other hand, resumed his admiration of Haizaki. “I’m sorry Haizaki-san.” He apologized, ever-so-casually applauding the other male, “You’re such a nice person.”

 

Woah woah woah. 

 

“Don’t call me a nice person.” He jokingly scolded, “a good chunk of people would have puked at what you just said. I ain’t no nice guy--hell, even Aomine Daiki puts me to shame.”

 

Kojiro slammed his drink against the tabletop. His face suddenly went pale, and, huffing, he turned his head to the other side. 

 

“...Aomine Daiki’s a fucking dick.” He eventually said, “Every single one of these fucking generation of miracles is a dick. I mean, Jesus Christ, they think they’re the hotshots just because they have magical superpowers and shit. They think they know everything about hard work just because they happened to win every competition.”

 

The air took on a serious tone. Even Hiroshi stopped his sulking to pop his head right back up. Eventually, Hara continued: “When I was in middle school, they had the nerve to laugh at my team. To laugh at my captain’s leadership, to laugh at our hard work. Murasakibara even knocked down one of our members and no one fouled him.”

 

“Hey, Kuroko Tetsuya’s got them together again.” Hiroshi sneered, “that’s bound to be fun.”

 

Hanamiya picked at his hands, examining his fingernails while wearing an unreadable expression. Kojiro, on the other hand, was livid with emotion. “That little cunt.” He spat, “He has the nerve to tell us that we need teamwork and hard work to succeed. As if we don’t know that.”

 

Hara leaned back into the seat and shrugged. “Hey, don’t blame the anime protagonist that always has his way, am I right? First part of Teiko, then part of Seirin--two schools with rich-ass sports programs that never lost while he was there. I’ll bet his ass that he never had to fight, by any means, to keep his dream alive. All he has to do is to spout some pretty words and then everything would come out alright, because there was never a whole lot wrong with it in the first place.”

 

Something about the way Hara almost hissed those words made Haizaki want to apologize for his former teammates.

 

“I-I’m sorry.”

 

All the other eyes at the table went wide. All of a sudden, their expressions softened, and Hara burst out in laughter. “Don’t be, Haizaki-san.” He chuckled, turning his face up to flash a little smile, “You weren’t part of it--they didn’t start being the generation of Assholes until Kise Ryouta joined in. We're just all being a little melodramatic since, well...”

 

“As you may or may not know, Haizaki-kun” Hiroshi said, “Kirisaki Dai Ichi was not exactly… Known for their sports programs before Hanamiya came along.”

 

“oh... I guess that changed?”

 

“Yeah.” Koiiro nodded to an impassive Hanamiya beside him, “All thanks to this guy. Sure we didn't win pretty, but a win's a win, and that was enough to get some funding from the board of rich old men.”

 

The others grinned in agreement while Hanamiya just silently chewed on some fries like they’re paper. His eyebrows stayed level without a trace of emotion, and, somehow, Haizaki got the impression that he wasn’t particularly proud of uplifting this team. 

 

Well.

 

“Hey.” Kojiro said, “wanna get out of here? I’m getting a little bored.”

 

\--- 

 

The sun has somewhat faded since Haizaki walked into Maji Burger’s, and though the world was no less bright, it was significantly cooler as the gang of four walked on the sidewalk of an abandoned road. At least that’s what Haizaki thought it was: nothing--no cars, no people aside from the four high schoolers--was present aside from grey, broken-down houses that had piles of electronic parts in front of it. Not even squirrels or friendly chihuahuas visited this place.

 

“Speaking of which,” Hiroshi suddenly asked, “where’s Kentarou today?”

 

“Stayed in school.” Hanamiya replied, sipping nonchalantly on his soda from Maji’s, “Apparently he has to study more or he’ll fail this year again.”

 

“Makes sense. Not everyone can skip school all the time and still get A’s like you do, Hanamiya.”

 

“Is that a compliment.” the captain interrogated, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow, “Or is that an insult disguised as a compliment?”

 

Hiroshi rolled his eyes. “How in the world is insinuating that you can get all A’s without studying anything but a compliment?!” He exasperated.

 

Hara nodded. Haizaki nodded too, in agreement. Then he realized something rather peculiar. “Wait.” He asked, earning glances from everyone, “If you actually cared about grades why would you skip school like this? I quite frankly don’t give a damn, but you sound like you do…”

 

“Nah, man.” Hiroshi shrugged, “I’m really fine with anything. If I get decent grades, I’ll manage to graduate from a fancy ass school. If I suck, then my parents might finally get an idea about how shitty this place is.”

 

“This rich ass place is...shitty?”

 

“While I would use less vulgar terms, I agree.” Kojiro sighed, “I actually have a grade point average to maintain, but I can’t stand that place, and so I come out here with these guys to let go of some of that stress.”

 

Seeing Haizaki’s mild confusion, Hara joined in. “Imagine a school full of Akashis, Midorimas, and Kises who can’t go 5 minutes without showing off their iPhone 8Ps.” He explained.

 

Haizaki paused for a second to imagine this scenario. 

 

Then, he shivered. Kojiro and Hanamiya laughed. Hara maintained his pout while blowing a large bubble with his gum. 

 

“Oh, by the way.” He added after the gum popped, this time sneaking a fry from Haizaki’s brown bag as they walked together, “I don’t know if I said this already, but you were so much better than Kise Ryouta ever could be.”

 

The cornrowed male let the silver-haired male take it. “Haha.” He chuckled sarcastically, “Unfortunately, Akashi Seijuurou didn’t think so.”

 

“Psh.” Hara rolled his eyes, “The guy’s probably just jealous that you have a bigger dick than he does. I mean, seriously, so what if you missed the majority of practices? It’s not like he and Aomine went to a lot of them in their second years, and” He raised a finger at Haizaki’s curious expression, “don’t ask me how I know that--I’ll just say that my middle school was close to Teiko. Anyway, you were so much more talented than Kise is!”

 

“O-oh, thanks…”

 

“You could literally copy moves after seeing them only once AND prevent others from using it? That’s, like, both an brilliant offensive and defensive tactic! And you totally fucked Kise up at the last game--if he didn’t pull out his main character card you would have beaten him to a pulp! If I were you, I’d be totally pissed that Kise became a miracle in your place. I mean, he’s very obviously less talented than you were!”

 

“A-ah…”

 

“And man, do you plan to switch your hair back?” the silver-haired male switched to fanboy mode, “I loved your silver hair! And n-no, it’s not because I have the same hair color… But I was a little disappointed…”

 

“Hara…” Hanamiya shook his head, sighing, “you’re making Mr. Grey blush, stop it.”

 

“I-I’m not blushing.”

 

Hara looked at Haizaki’s face, and quickly began to blush as well. “I-I’m sorry, Haizaki-san, it’s just that I liked you for so long--no homo, though, no homo--and I’m a...little excited?”

 

Hanamiya began to laugh as the two stared into each other’s eyes. “HAHAHA!” His mouth was opened wide as he stuck out his tongue--why does he do that? ”Oh my god, you two dorks. Do you two always blush at the littlest things?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

Hanamiya held his stomach, trying his hardest not to pass out from laughter while Kojiro made a small giggle. 

 

Soon enough, the four began to move toward a more populated area. As the sky above them gradually darkened to black, some cars passed them by while various men and women sat on porches of concrete. Well, this part of town is obviously not abandoned, but this is still not a place that decent parents would want their kids to be--men were chasing bloodied women with kitchen knives in hand, and kids who looked no older than eight were snorting white, powdery substances through broken straws while their parents were passed out on the ground beside them. Even Haizaki, who considered himself pretty experienced with this kind of stuff, was a little “frightened”, so to say. 

 

“Hey Kojiro.” He whispered to the male in front of him, “What are we doing here?”

 

Red lanterns hung off various roofs, and Hanamiya ducked beneath one of them while the rest remained outside. A burly guy chucked an anvil at a car window, and Kojiro rotated his body to whisper back: “This is Hanamiya’s house.”

 

“Wait what?” the cornrowed male turned to examine this place, “Seriously? This place?”

 

“Yeah. He and his mother live here.”

 

“But this place looks like a damn Whorehou--”

 

“Haizaki-kun.” Hiroshi, who had been eerily still since they got into this place, “We like you, we seriously do, but there are things we just can’t tell you. One of these things is what Hanamiya’s mother does for a living.”

 

“Hiroshi.” Kojiro snapped, “Don’t tell him anything Hanamiya wouldn’t want to tell us.”

 

Haizaki took one more glance around him. “I could literally care less what his mother does for a living.” He said, narrowing his eyes at the filth, “but if he didn’t want me or you guys to know, why would he bring us here? I mean, this place sure gives us quite a bit of information.”

 

There was the sound of a baseball bat hitting something followed by a scream from a man. Haizaki instinctively lifted his head up, only to jump back when he found a guy having his eye torn out of his sockets. Kojiro did the same thing he did, and sighed as he turned back. “That, I guess.” He grimaced, “Basketball only helps him so much--It’s usually Kentarou, and he’s the tallest so I guess…”

 

“You guys talking about me?”

 

Everyone turned back to Hanamiya, who had just emerged from the whorehous--I mean, unknown house. He stood cross-armed, and dark eyes examined everyone with a different look in his eyes; eventually, he let out a breath of resignation before he walked to them again. “Don’t talk about others behind their back” He warned semi-jokingly as if nothing had happened, “It’s not polite.”

 

Hara asked him what he went in for, and Hanamiya replied by saying his mother needed some pain ointment. Soon, he began a conversation with Kojiro about some new idol, and Haizaki stayed silent.

 

Why didn’t he confront Hanamiya? You ask? Why didn’t he comfort him, say that this would change nothing between them?

 

Good question.

 

Because he hated others budging into his business like they understood him. This is exactly why he hated Kuroko Tetsuya, because that guy just always wanted to push his opinion onto others while acting so nice about it, like everyone’s a wayward antagonist in a shounen manga while he’s the morally pure protagonist. Haizaki’s just sick of it, sick of his pity, sick of his unwelcome advice, sick of the way he looked at him like he needed to talk about it even though that’s the last thing he wanted to do.

 

So he wouldn’t do that to Hanamiya. 

 

Haizaki walked faster to catch up with everyone else, and when he did, he effortlessly slipped himself into a conversation about hot girls. The topic of Hanamiya’s mother passed, replaced by a strange sense of camaraderie that existed between him and the Kirisaki Dai Ichi even though they haven’t known each other for that long.

 

While the aura amongst the teenagers were warm, the streets around them weren’t. The air has a grown a little chilly, and all the slightly decent people would have gone home by now, so that all that remained were non-decent people: these people glared at them with disgust (and a sense of mild curiosity) as if they were representations of all that was wrong with their world; a couple hollered at Hanamiya, some telling the “pretty boy” to bend over while others tried to pick a fight with Haizaki, of all people. 

 

And the cornrowed male didn’t bother because, well, even he has standards.

 

You remember what he said about the streets here being not abandoned? Haizaki just might stand corrected--there’s not a single police station in sight, and no one that passed by, whether in cars or on foot, looked like they had an occupation other than one in the black market. Some looked richer than others, but none of them looked decent like the Furihatas. Haizaki would be surprised if this place turned out to be under federal jurisdiction.

 

“HELP!”

 

A woman screamed as she jumped behind Haizaki, which led the tall male to examine her tattered state and the others to stare alarmingly in the direction she came in. Lifting her messy head, her teary eyes breathlessly met Haizaki's gray ones. 

 

"Please.” her pink lips cried desperately, “Help me!”

 

"What's going on?" Kojiro asked, "Is there someone after you?"

 

"T-they're going to rape me!" She sobbed, shaking as she clenched Haizaki’s blazer, "p-please, they're getting closer! "

 

She was completely naked from the waist down; the ripped blouse had a vague school insignia on it, so Haizaki assumed that she was a student somewhere. 

 

Hanamiya continued to walk, impassive to the woman's pleas. Suddenly he paused, ears perked at something, before he immediately grabbed Kojiro and Hara by their sleeves and dragged them into a dark corner, away from sight. He called for Hiroshi to join them, but the orange-haired male stood still by her, a moral dilemma evident on his face. Kojiro, too, looked hesitant about leaving the victim, but Hanamiya's grip offered no alternative. Haizaki wanted to leave, too, but the woman kept her fists tight against the fabric of his clothing.

 

"You have to help me!" She cried again. She turned to where Hanamiya was, and the pale male hissed a “fuck you bitch” in return to whatever look she gave him. 

 

Soon enough, a couple of guys came to them, all significantly more clothed than the girl was but not by much. One short, bald guy walked up to Haizaki, sneered, and pointed to the woman behind him. 

 

“That’s my whore.” He said matter-of-factly, “I paid good money for her.” 

 

The girl shook a bit more. “No you didn’t!” She screamed, “You took off my clothes for absolutely no reason!”

 

A couple guys smirked. One gave another a look that said “Look at this bitch”, and another actually burst out laughing. Eventually, a tall, bearded guy yelled, raising a basketball bat that came out of nowhere: “Shut your whore mouth! Now boys, give us our bitch and we’ll let you guys go.”

 

“Just leave her alone.” Hiroshi said.

 

“Ooh, this boy said just leave her alone!” The short guy jeered. 

 

All the other guys burst out laughing, and the short guy slowly strutted closer to Hiroshi. “Listen up, boy.” He hissed, lips quirking up in a wicked smile, “You’re at my place now.”

 

The orange-haired kid scooted backward in fear, but too late as a punch landed on his stomach. Haizaki groaned as Hiroshi began to cry, and, shoving the woman aside, he landed a roundhouse kick on the short guy. 

 

“I wasn’t going to do anything,” He muttered, “But you hurt my homeboy right there so now I have to pay you guys back real good.”

 

“Y-you!” The short guy stuttered as he rubbed his head. He lifted his head to look at the other guys, who have all been taken aback by Haizaki’s kick. “G-g-go teach him a lesson!” He yelled, and one guy came up to challenge Haizaki one-on-one.

 

A couple more joined him.

 

O-kay then. Maybe not a one-on-one.

 

Haizaki quickly moved left and right, successfully knocking the first guy off of his balance. As he fell, the teen kicked him in the center and launched him toward another wave of people; another grabbed a hold of his clothes and almost launched a hit on him, but Haizaki butted him in the stomach and that got rid of him. Wiping a drop of sweat from his forehead, he took a glance in Hanamiya’s direction.

 

Disconcerted, but nothing more.

 

Haizaki sighed as he punched another guy in his jaw. Man, he thought, I could really use Furihata here. Theses guys are pretty much newbies in terms of street fighting (despite what their neighborhood would have suggested), but damn, there’s way too many of them. If this keeps up, he just might lose.

 

“Aah!” 

 

Haizaki turned his head, and he found Hiroshi standing in front of a guy that’s on his knees writhing in pain. Hiroshi smirked, and Haizaki was temporarily confused, until he saw the long, almost invisible object in his hands. 

 

A needle.

 

“Right between his ribs.” He said smugly, “Courtesy of Hanamiya Makoto. Once inserted properly, practically unremovable unless through surgery. Maximum pain, minimum chances of removal.”

 

Damn. Haizaki shivered as he kicked another guy in the stomach, good thing I never got on their bad side. God bless whoever the hell they developed this...technology on. As another guy came to land a hit on him, Haizaki sighed. Seriously, all this for a whore? There must be a way to make them back off.

 

Oh, this is the tall, bearded guy. 

 

Then, Haizaki came up with an idea.

 

He stood still, waiting for the guy to almost reach him. Then, at the last second, he dashed to the side, letting the guy launch his balance forward and fall. Right before he fell, however, Haizaki grabbed his weight and threw the guy over his shoulder.

 

The guy fell with a loud thump, and Haizaki breathed heavily.

 

An impressive, badass, but highly tiring move. Let’s just hope that this scares them off. 

 

Trying to control his huffing, Haizaki stepped onto the guy’s chest and stared straight into the eyes of an unknown minion. Assert dominance, he reminded himself, only people who reeked of weakness are hurt. 

 

Apparently this worked, and the minion shrunk back from Haizaki, trying to appear tough while staring at his defeated leader in incredulous fear. “W-what the fuck?” He tried to jeer as he stepped back, letting out puffs of air to make himself look--god, Haizaki doesn’t know. Why do newbies do that? 

 

Anyway, he broke out running the second Haizaki stepped on the leader’s arm. At first it was one, then two, then everyone. After Haizaki ascertained that everyone ran out of eyesight, he let go of the pained guy and walked toward the girl and Hiroshi. Noting the fact that she looked content with Hiroshi’s jacket around her bottom, he casually asked: “Are you okay?”

 

The woman blinked. “A-ah, fine.” She replied, and Haizaki noted how every trace of trauma seemed to have disappeared from her body. Shakily rising from her original position, her body “accidentally” bumped into Haizaki’s, and both Haizaki and Hanamiya raised their eyebrows as she mumbled a quick apology. 

 

Kojiro, however, was quick to reach for her. “Do you have somewhere you need to go?” He hurriedly inquired, “I’m so, so, so sorry that I didn’t get to save you.” A glare at Hanamiya, “But I’m glad that Haizaki-kun beat those guys up for you.”

 

I didn’t beat up those guys for her. Haizaki thought, I did it for Hiroshi. 

 

“Y-yeah. I’m better now, thanks.” She smiled, “I’m actually from right around here, but I’m a little afraid to go home since they might be waiting for me--”

 

Both Hara and Hiroshi nodded in understanding. “I’d take you in.” the grey-haired male sadly said, “but me, Hiroshi, and Kojiro--we all live in student dorms, so that’s not good, huh...Hanamiya lives here too, so that leaves you, Haizaki-kun.”

 

Huh?

 

Kojiro grinned as he looked into Haizaki’s eyes. “You’re a real gentleman tonight, huh?” He teased, “First you save a damsel in distress, then you take her home to take good care of her. So sweet!”

 

“B-but…” Haizaki tried to come up with an excuse, but none came to mind before the girl latched onto him like a koala bear. Groaning, he conceded: “Fine, but don’t expect much. My house ain’t big.”

 

The woman nodded, somewhat a little more subdued than before. Hara gave him an ugly look, probably thinking that his lukewarm attitude toward her scared the poor thing, but Haizaki couldn’t care less. 

 

Along with their new addition, they walked out of the district, now formally lit by red lights that glowed from lanterns. Their conversation had lessened due to the new addition, but the air was pleasant as these lights above faded from red to nothing to yellow, and, gradually, to white as they arrived at a major intersection. As they stood at the tiled sidewalks, it seemed as if everything glowed silver; cars honked by beside them as they bid their goodbyes, and, for some reason, Haizaki felt a little sad as they parted--he liked them.

 

“Umm...Haizaki-kun, is it?”

 

Oh, and this bitch again. 

 

“U-um.” She bit her lip in an attempt to feign shyness, “T-thank you for helping me!”

 

Haizaki huffed. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

“You know, I was so scared that they were going to rape me! If it weren’t for you, I could possibly be lying in a ditch somewhere--”

 

“I said don’t worry about it.”

 

“You saved my life--”

 

“Didn’t I say to not worry about it?”

 

“So, as thanks.” The woman whispered as she untied the jacket that covered her lower half, “You can have this.”

 

Haizaki raised an eyebrow.

 

\--

 

You know, Haizaki thought as his tongue twirled around the lady’s, aren’t rape victims supposed to be terrified of men? Especially big, scary ones like him?

 

Huh. 

 

He hummed against her lipstick-coated lips.

 

Guess she isn’t much of a victim, then.

 

Long fingernails raked against his back, and they hurt. Haizaki hissed as the keratin peeled skin off of his back: for some reason, girls always do this--is it supposed to make him feel good? Well, it’s certainly not working. It’s activating all the pain receptors in his brain, and the high schooler pulled himself away from her lipstick-coated lips to suckle on her nipples instead, purposefully avoiding her face while the woman moaned like he was the best thing for her in a long while. 

 

Haizaki’s not amused. After he briefly admired her fertile-looking mammary glands, Haizaki directly went to her inner thighs, mostly ignoring her skinny waist with a cursive brush of his hand. The high schooler nibbled and savoured the soft, but definitely abused skin, and felt a small jolt of pleasure. 

 

She was definitely a prostitute, he noted, or at least a girl who got her thighs bitten very regularly. Not someone he would pay to fuck, but Haizaki has his own condoms, and he wasn’t going to turn down any free pussy that came along his way. After grabbing and slapping her butt a couple of times, Haizaki pushed himself in, and dry lips let out a breath of satisfaction at the welcoming wetness that closed around him. 

 

The woman threw her head back and Haizaki smirked, wanting to tell her that he’s not into this as much as she thought he was. Honestly, he’s just here to get off in a hole.

 

Ooh, he breathed as he thrusted inside her a couple times, yeah, that’s nice. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of warm pussy against his cock as he built himself up to a good climax.

 

You know, he suddenly wondered amidst the haze of copulation, I wonder how thrusting into a man would be different from thrusting into a woman. He heard that men were tighter, but there’s a shit load of preparation and, apparently, you have to buy lube since there’s no natural fluid that’s produced. 

 

Aside from semen, that was. 

 

The woman beneath him cried as she approached her climax, and Haizaki growled as her hole became tighter against him. Oh yeah, he likes this. With a loud hiss, he pulled out and came into his condom. 

 

He fell into the bed, letting out a breath of contentment as he laid down next to the girl. Smiling, the girl climbed up his chest and laid her head down. 

 

“That was great.” She whispered.

 

Haizaki hummed as he pulled off the plastic and threw it into a wastebasket near the site of fornication--a capsule hotel at the train station--and laid back down. 

 

The woman giggled. “We should do this again.”

 

The cornrowed male only hummed in reply, again, before he closed his eyes and tuned out everything the girl was going to say. As he descended into sleep, though, he pitied those who were near him. 

 

\--

 

Haizaki had a weird dream that night.

 

He was looking down at the world from above, seeing through walls and people’s hearts as everyone scurried about their daily lives like ants; the entire world was within his literal grasp, and his vision shifted from America to France to Russia within a couple of seconds--perhaps this is what god perceived everyday, if he existed--but, of course, Haizaki immediately turned to Japan, and then his own neighborhood.

 

There it was, the entire area spread out in front of him like the map setting in an video game. Various faces, both familiar and unfamiliar, occupied the streets. Haizaki remembered zooming in on various landmarks of the place and grinning with wicked pleasure as he located each and every street he was familiar with.

 

For some reason, the first person he went to look for was Furihata. And he found him relatively quickly for some reason. Anyway, the fluffy brunette was ardently pouring over a book--probably studying for a test, Haizaki remembered thinking--but when the teen read his mind (because he can do that in this dream) he saw that Furihata wasn't really taking the information from his book. 

 

He was thinking about Akashi.

 

Haizaki recalled wanting to groan and punch Furihata in the face, but not being able to because he just looked so damn heartbroken. Dark circles outlined his reddened eyes, and his short, stubby fingers shook from something. Something he couldn't understand even with his mind reading abilities.

 

The previously silver-haired teen had wanted to scream. That Akashi Seijuurou is not worth it. That he won't be good for Furihata even if he did accept him. That he'll just become a one-semester-stand like Nijimura did.

 

That there's someone better for him.

 

Day faded to night, and Furihata finally got up from his desk to sleep. As the brunette tucked himself into bed, Haizaki suddenly thought of another person. Without thinking, he spun to America, but then he came to the reality that he didn't know where the bloody hell he lived.

 

Then he woke up.

 

\--

 

Haizaki reflexively jolted as he woke up from his dream. His heartbeat was regular--it wasn't scary--but he nevertheless took a sharp breath upon hitting his head upon the ceiling. Rubbing his head, he looked up and silently cursed everything about this place: the tight space, the yellowed mattress, and lack of leg space. A capsule hotel's really not meant for two people, he admitted. So remind him--how the hell did he fuck a girl in here? 

 

According to his phone, it's 2:00 at night. Well, it's technically really early morning, but, anyway, the outside world was still too dark, even for him, to walk about comfortably. Sighing, he fell deeper into the mattress and stared up into the sky, which-- 

 

...Wow, you can see the stars from here? Guess this place's not so shitty after all. 

 

He's not in a cheesy fanfic written by a tired ass college student or anything, but the stars at night genuinely make him feel at peace for some reason. It's like everyone, no matter how great or little on earth, are mere ants beneath their celestial watch. Nothing really matters when you compare your problems to them: made a million dollars? Great, but the stars won't change; got a D on an exam? Well, the stars would still be glowing; got rejected by a guy you liked? The stars are still there, doing their business with or without you. 

 

In fact, you don't matter at all. 

 

You can't really see the stars tonight, though. One or two managed to let out a faint indication of their presence, but most stayed silent, and glowing red dots occupied the night sky in their place. As they slid across the tiny window, the high schooler mused about their destinations; Strangely enough, even though they are completely synthetic, staring at them was no less relaxing than staring at the stars. In fact, they seem to offer you even more room for imagination to their destinations. 

 

As he stared at one of them, Haizaki’s thoughts went to Furihata.

 

Furihata Kouki, the human chihuahua. Haizaki moved his arm under his head and wondered--How’s he doing now? Apparently there was a bit of a scare with his mother the other day, but everything’s fine as far as the neighborhood gossips knew. 

 

That dude better not be crying over Akashi, because that guy’s not worth it. No one’s worth crying yourself into a coma for.

 

To a certain extent, however, Haizaki could comprehend how he felt. It hurts to be rejected and knowing Akashi, the guy probably didn’t mince his words. Not that Haizaki thinks you should go out with someone out of pity but damn, it took everything from this person to look like a fool in front of you. You should at least have the decency to respect that.

 

With a soft thump, the woman limply rolled off of his body. Haizaki rotated his head to glance at her for a second, before he twisted his head back to look at the sky instead.

 

Well, that is only if the other person’s “feelings” for you are sincere, unlike all those girls that confessed to him in middle school. They only saw him as a toy, as a kind of “I dated a bad boy” trophy to wear around their necks and never much more; it never ceased to amaze him how these bitches could leave him right after sex and then turn around and blame him for it, like he only dated her to fuck her. 

 

And it amazed him even more how eagerly people bought that lie. First of all, why does everyone automatically think that he’s the one responsible for everything? He talks sweet to these girls for fun, and all these girls just immediately go after someone they knew had a bad reputation? There’s nothing wrong with that? 

 

And second of all, why do they assume that he’s the one who fucked up? These girls never wanted to listen to him talk about anything that didn’t involve movies or songs, and he’s somehow to blame?

 

Even if he was in it for the sex, the sex wasn’t that good. All of his sex with girls have been lukewarm at best, and though he didn’t turn any of it down because his dick felt decently satisfied, it wasn’t enough for him to go out of his way to break people’s hearts. Despite what Midorima Shintarou may think, he doesn’t take pleasure in breaking people’s hearts.

 

“We should do this again.” She said. Haizaki sighed, retrieved his clothes, and thought: No, we’re definitely not doing this again. Women like you are scary, and Haizaki doesn’t want anything to do with that. He grabbed his clothes, put them on--he didn’t take much off in the first place--got the hell out of there.

 

His phone read 5:00.

 

\--

 

You know, he thought as he sauntered about on the street, maybe he’s really meant to be a villain. If you look at their names Akashi’s a majestic red, Midorima’s a calming green, Kise’s a bright yellow, and he’s just grey. 

 

Grey.

 

It’s such an ugly color. It’s feeble and insipid in comparison to black, but not daring enough to have a sacred glow like white does. It’s the color of hair as a man meets his eventual doom, of the sky after a tragic confession, of buildings after dreams have been crushed; it is despair.

 

It’s also lukewarm, and indecisive, but monochromatic all the same. It’s pathetically basic.

 

Red, victory.

 

Green, tradition and nature.

 

Yellow, hope.

 

Rainbow, liberation and teamwork.

 

What even is grey? 

 

It’s nothing.

 

Haizaki sighed as the sun began to rise and illuminate the familiar buildings he examined in his dream. Even if he didn’t have a god’s-eye-view in reality, the town was still decent to look it. The color of some buildings changed, but, nevertheless, this place was much nicer without the people that constantly buzzed around it. Who the hell said that humans make landscapes beautiful? They make it mundane and boring instead.

 

Humming, the tall, gangster-like male made his way toward his house and paused when he arrived at the Furihatas.

 

This is one of the buildings that changed its color in the early light; instead of a warm orange, the building now dimly glowed blue. Still, though, there was a kind of tranquil about the place--no one would call this a haunted house, whereas many would call his.   
“Haizaki-kun!” A soft voice suddenly called above him. 

 

The taller male turned his head up and found Furihata Kouki standing right there, stretching his body out of a window. He looked chipper, but when Haizaki narrowed his eyes he realized that he didn’t look much better than he did in the dream: his eyes were puffy with dark circles underlining them, and His skin was definitely paler than it should be. At this, Haizaki narrowed his eyes. 

 

“Dude.” He raised his voice a little, “What are you doing at this hour?”

 

“I’m making breakfast for my family.” Furihata replied, grinning, “And what are YOU doing at this hour?”

 

Haizaki chuckled: “Deja vu. But seriously, did you not sleep last night? You look awful.”

 

“Oh.” The little guy paused, turning to rest his body more properly on the railing, “Don’t worry about it. It’s not as bad as it looks--I think I’ll be able to go back to school today.”

 

“Furihata, seriously, don’t go to school if you’re sick.”

 

“It’s not that bad.”

 

“That is entirely subjective.” Haizaki said, looking straight into Furihata’s eyes from below, “I think you look bloody horrible.”

 

Furihata shrugged, and the older male let out a groan of resignation. “Fine. If you say so.” 

 

He spun back and began to march forward, but the younger called his name again. “Wait!” he cried, his voice echoing along the chilly street, “I want to say something to you.”

 

Haizaki paused. “What is it?” 

 

Furihata shrunk back a little, wrapping his blanket closer to his chest before letting out a shy smile. “T-thank you.” He breathed, “for, uh, taking me back home that night. My mom told me.”

 

“O-oh.” 

 

Great. Why is he blushing? 

 

He really does blush at the littlest things, Haizaki thought as Furihata wrapped and unwrapped the covering around him, but even when this guy looks like he had the worst day in his life, there’s something sunny about him. He’s skittish, sure, but there’s something so warm yet resilient behind those chocolate eyes. Maybe Akashi won’t notice him, but Haizaki’s so, so jealous of that smile, in an oddly pleasant way: he wants that kindness, he wants that little bundle of positivity that Furihata seems to carry everywhere he goes.

He really doesn’t deserve to be rejected and stepped upon, Haizaki thought, even if he’s good at handling it, he really doesn’t deserve it. There must be someone who could make him feel better.

 

Suddenly, Haizaki thought “Why not?”

 

It wouldn’t hurt, and he always wanted to try liking a guy. He doesn’t know a whole lot about how this would turn out, but he does know that if he didn’t tell Furihata right now, he would be regretting over it for the next twenty years of his life.

 

“Hey, Furihata.” He casually remarked, “I have a question for you.”

 

The fluffy brunette blinked at him, reddened eyes wide with too much hurt but also with a lovely kind of curiosity that made Haizaki melt. “Hmm?” those lips hummed encouragingly, “What is it?”

 

“Would you go out with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After writing this, I had come to the conclusion that I haven't been able to write for shit lately lol.
> 
> I...guess this is long enough to pacify my readers? I'm sorry that there's no AkaFuri here, but hey, have some Haizaki instead? To make up for this I might write an AkaFuri oneshot, but I might not since I barely have time. I literally only finished this because I wrote most of it in the toilet during Thanksgiving dinner, and finals start next week lol.
> 
> ;-; Now I have to study for tests. Again. I've had an average of two tests very week since I started this bloody semester.
> 
> Sorry for the negativity, and thank you so much for reading! If you have any comments, suggestions, or criticisms please don't be afraid to leave a comment!


	23. Spinning round and round

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM DONE WITH FINALS AND I UPDATED ON CHRISTMAS! 
> 
> Now that I'm re-reading this I am ashamed for the lack of Akafuri QAQ I'll make it up...Somehow ;-;

“Would you go out with me?” 

The brunette's hand stilled in its original attempt to wrap the blanket tighter around his body, and his mind, already a little muddled, went blank at those words. “E-excuse me?” He blinked incredulously, “C-Can you repeat that?” 

Haizaki directed his eyes away from Kouki. Blushing, he repeated those words, and Kouki suddenly went dizzy. 

Because he didn't hear wrong. 

As Haizaki-kun’s foot anxiously digged into the concrete sidewalk, Kouki began to feel faint; his eyes are starting to see stars as blood pounded in his chest, partly due to surprise and partly due to a strange sense of fear. 

Fear, because Haizaki’s a really nice guy and Kouki means it. If what his mother said was true, he witnessed Kouki at his worst and still fell for him.

Someone's into him. Granted, Haizaki-kun’s a bit terrifying to look at, but he liked him, a puny kid whose only strength is an uncanny ability to turn his acquaintances into fictional homosexuals. Enough to confess.

“Oi, kid.” the larger male yelled impatiently, face looking a strange shade of red, “If you don’t wanna go out, t-that’s fine! Just say something, please, something!”

Kouki closed his eyes, trying to calm his beating heart.

Well, maybe Kouki could fall in love with him too.

“Sure.” He said.

Haizaki incredulously shot his head up. His face went redder than it was before, and, blinking, his jaw suddenly fell wide open as if he didn’t expect this. “U-uh…” he searched for his words, scratching his head like a shy schoolboy, “Y-y-you actually accepted...T-thanks, I guess.”

The fluffy brunette chuckled. “Y-y-you’re welcome,” he responded, “I guess, Haizaki-kun.” 

Haizaki-kun, still red-faced, scoffed and paced a little in the gradually populating street. “Don’t copy me.” he said, and grey eyes locked into Kouki’s chestnut ones before the larger man, realizing the awkwardness of everything, burst into laughter.

Kouki laughed too; to Kouki’s smug amusement, the other seemed to struggle with this reality. This is a pretty ego-boosting experience, he suddenly thought, no wonder people who get confessed to often become arrogant arses. 

After their awkward laughter faded, a couple of early-rising elderlies gave them the ugly eye and Haizaki-kun stopped to look up at his new boyfriend. He’s not smiling like a shougo manga love interest, but his eyebrows have flattened to a softer curve and his lips have lost their scowl, giving him a surprisingly warm visage as he fiddled with his sweatpants. 

“U-uh…” He continued, “I...I guess I’ll come by later to walk you to school?”

“Uh…”Furihata said, “yeah, that sounds nice. Come by tomorrow?”

“Yeah, t-that sounds good.”

“Yeah.”

“So...bye until then?”

The brunette nodded. 

Haizaki-kun nodded affirmative as well, and as he waved his newfound boyfriend temporary farewell, the tall male happily headed toward what is presumably his house. When he faded out of eyesight, though, Kouki suddenly felt a metaphorical pressure fall on top of him. “Boyfriend.” He muttered to himself.

That’s a heavy word.

\--

It was 20 minutes before his first class of the day, and Akashi was trying to balance the phone on his shoulder while he shoved his bag into his elegant, but nevertheless tiny locker. 

“Wait, what happened with Furihata Kouki?” he asked, frowning at what he just heard. 

A couple eager eavesdroppers turned their heads in his direction, but one glare from the redhead sent them back to doing what they were supposed to do. Sighing, Akashi finished putting his backpack into the square space. "Sorry, Shintarou. There were some unwelcome presence looking for gossip." 

"I see." Shintarou's stern voice came through the receiver, "Well, Kuroko just called me so that I could inform you that you were an "asshole", apparently, to his teammate."

Akashi transferred his cellphone from his shoulder to his hands as he leaned back against a wall. "It was a sensitive topic," he admitted, "but I had no choice. There was only one answer to his question, and it was a harsh one."

"It must have been quite the harsh one for Kuroko Tetsuya, of all people, to call you an "asshole" over it."

"I suppose it was..."

There was a pause and a ruffling on the other side as Shintarou, presumably, opened his backpack to take out some books. Quietly, Akashi wondered how Shintarou's faring without him or Takao--The taller male was never good at making friends and, judging from their communication lately, Takao has been a beacon of friendship in his life. Shintarou thought of the other as a genuine friend, but Akashi wondered if that was true in reverse.

Other students chatted in the background on both sides, and Shintarou, after getting his pens out, picked up the cellphone again. “Sorry.” He explained, "I was preparing myself for school--”

“Figured.”

“But, anyway. Let’s return to the topic. What did you talk about with Furihata?”

“I said it’s a sensitive topic.”

“Well, what’s the sensitive topic?”

Akashi groaned. Dear Lord, why is he so stubborn? “Shintarou, when did you obtain that interrogatory tone and why are you using it on me?”

The receiver went silent. Shintarou seemed momentarily taken aback and, suddenly, Akashi felt guilty for the second time today. People get hurt a lot more easily than he previously thought they did. Eventually, the other male broke the silence: “I know that you are not an “asshole”, so to speak. However, I still don’t enjoy hearing other people address you as such. And I don’t think I can defend you when I don’t know what’s going on. So .” He paused, “please, be open with me.”

His whispery tone gave the whole call a softer edge, which made the redhead smile as his heart melted in guilt. Aww, Shintarou cared about me, he thought, and maybe I should tell him. This won't change anything between us, right?

“Well, if you insist on knowing...Furihata Kouki confessed to me.”

“...H-he did?”

“Yes.”

"O-oh." Is it just him or did Shintarou seem a little upset by this? “...And you said no, right?”

Akashi rolled his eyes. “Of course, Shintarou. And even if I didn’t I wouldn’t tell you about it.”

“So you’re telling me that Furihata Kouki got an awfully sick because...you rejected him? That must have been quite the rejection.”

“I didn't think I was harsh...I simply told him the truth, that we were too different and a future between us simply wouldn't work out. I mean, he was a commoner's son and I the heir of the Akashi. Maybe I could have just said no, but I wanted to crush his dreams, so to speak, and make him truly understand that a relationship is simply not possible."

"Hm..." Shintarou fell into contemplation, "With all due respect, Akashi, that does sound a little insensitive; a simple "no" would have done the trick."

Letting out a large puff of air in defensive frustration, Akashi Seijuurou rubbed his temples as he sighed. "Well, I must have been quite insensitive for Midorima Shintarou, of all people, to address me as that."

"Once again, I'm no expert...perhaps the harsher the rejection is, the better in the long run. It's just that, speaking as another person who dared to confess to you, the prospect of getting rejected was terrifying enough, and an elaboration on why I wasn't good enough would probably have shattered me."

"R-really?"

"...You have never confessed to anyone, have you?"

"No..." Akashi uttered, "I always got what I want."

Shintarou sighed. "Well, I shouldn't be feeling sympathy for someone who confessed to you,” He commented, probably blushing a little bit, “being y-your, um, boyfriend, but I do."

Akashi opened his mouth to say something in reply, but someone else interrupted him. Lifting his head up, Akashi realized that it was the (annoying taller than him) backup player from the day of the competition--he was supposed to have washed Akashi's shorts by yesterday, but "something came up" and he couldn't deliver on his promise. That's fine--Akashi's quite tolerant, but the backup player looked terrified nonetheless.

"Oh, I was going to look for you." The captain said, "how have my shorts fared? I apologize, by the way, for dumping that duty onto you." 

The poor guy's face went even paler than it was before. "U-uh," He scrambled a bit for his words, "N-no worries, captain! I-I-I hope I wasn't interrupting your conversation..."

"Don't worry about that. Now, how's everything?"

The generic background character laughed awkwardly. His lips said "ha", but his eyes said "Imma die", and Akashi raised an eyebrow as the black-haired man shakily removed an item from his backpack. It looked like his shorts, but the other immediately put it behind his body before Akashi could get a better look at it. Confused, the captain raised an eyebrow. 

"Is something the matter?" He asked.

"Uh, well, uh, you see...there was a little accident."

"Another one?"

"Well... " The guy took a deep breath, "more like a continuation of the other one.Theblood'snotcomingout." 

Akashi stilled, squinting as he tried to decipher the other’s words. “...What do you mean the blood’s not coming out?” he muttered, trying to contain his shock.

The poor backup player shook like a maple leaf as his captain glared at him. 

“Y-yeah, “ he shakily responded, “I-I-I, uh, p-put it in h-hot water like y-y-y-y-you asked me to, and, uh, the stain’s stuck…”

“Did you use soap?”

“O-of course!”

Snatching the fabric from the player's hands, Akashi almost cried as he examined the fabric which, indeed, now has Furihata’s blood dried up and stuck all over it. Some students quirked an eyebrow in confusion as they walked by, and Akashi begrudgingly thought: Great, how is he supposed to practice with blood on his shorts, again? You use hot water to get stains out, right? Why is it stuck?

“C-captain, i-i-if you don’t mind, I can lend you my shorts again…”

The redhead glared at the player some more, childishly and unfortunately projecting his anger onto the poor fellow. It's not his fault, Akashi knew, but some people simply happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and this guy is one of them. “No thanks.” he spat, “Get those shorts out of my eyesight and bloody throw it in the trash or something.” 

“Pfft, “bloody” throw it in the trash, he said--”

“I. said. Throw. it. in. the. trash.”

The boy visibly shivered. He promptly chucked the soiled shorts into a nearby trash bin (with perfect accuracy, to Akashi's mild pride), and the captain decided to picked up his neglected phone with a sigh. “I'm sorry you had to hear that, Shintarou.”

“...Did you wash your blood-stained shorts with hot water.”

“Yes, I did. The blood didn't seem to want to come out.”

“You actually washed shorts, with blood on them, with hot water.”

Akashi furrowed his brows. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“Dear Lord. “ He could hear Shintarou face-palming on his desk, “I know your mother passed away, but don't you have at least one female acquaintance to turn to help to? And who in the world taught you biology?”

“I do have an aunt and Momoi, and we don't learn biology until third year.”

“Oh that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Well. Akashi, believe it or not, blood is not that hard to clean. This is only, however, if you put it in cold water.”

“Oh, is that so.”

“Yes, Akashi.” Shintarou sounds like he's scolding a child, “As you know, you can wipe liquid blood away from a table quite easily, but if you cook it it sticks to the countertop. And you cooked the blood by putting it into hot water. Heat denatures the protein links, Akashi. I can’t believe you didn’t know that.”

“...”

“...”

“...A female would have been helpful.”

“...Yes.”

“Does our female population seriously have to deal with this every month, Shintarou?”

“Being a female’s older brother.” Shintarou said, “I can confidently assert yes, indeed.”

The hands of the clock in front of him ticked closer to the time that school is supposed to start. Shintarou began to talk incessantly about his family, but as Akashi nodded and genuinely chuckled at their antics, he began to think about something more. You know, he thought, things really haven’t changed much between them since they “went out”, so to speak. It’s like they were still friends--of course, the biggest difference between friendship and a romantic relationship is the sexual aspect, but Akashi really couldn’t think of Shintarou that way. 

But maybe it’s time to do some more “Coupley” things.

“Hey.” Akashi interrupted one of Shintarou’s rants, “when would you be free?”

“...Why, is there something going on?”

“Well.” Akashi said, “We haven’t seen each other in a while. Would you mind meeting up for a bit on Saturday?”

“Oh…” Shintarou must be blushing right now, “That’s fine with me, A-Akashi,

The bell rings, and Akashi smiles. He almost shuts off the phone right there but he stops, and gives Shintarou a quick “See you then” before hanging up. Tucking his phone into the pocket of his uniform, the redhead heads off to his first class of the day.

\--

The day passed by without much excitement. He walked to school alone (because Kagami overslept), and Fukuda and Kawahara fussed over him like a newborn child after he arrived. Kawahara insisted that he still looked a bit feverish, but Furihata laughed it off and managed to carry on his work just fine. After school ended, Furihata saw them, along with Kagami and Kuroko off to practice, and when he refused to go into the gym with them Kagami demanded an explanation. 

It was a hard one to give, but these guys accepted the explanation just fine. Fukuda told him to take good care of himself, and they parted ways.

“Ahh…” Furihata breathed out as he set out into the still sunny horizon, the soles of his foot burning a little bit against the heated concrete. It feels a bit strange (and a bit lonely) to behold the school gate at this time of day when he’s so used to seeing the sunset along with it, but he’s not complaining. Sighing, he tried to squeeze past the hoard of people that’s leaving school grounds as well. 

A chilly, but not unwelcome wind swept across Furihata's forehead, swiping up the male's bangs and filling his nostrils with a fresh scent; a fresh scent of what, he can't explain, but it was fresh and it temporarily cleansed his mind of unhappy thoughts. He made it to a spot beneath a cherry tree after some effort, and the tree wasn’t large, but it was big enough to make a shadow against the sidewalk as another breeze shot by and white pedals fells onto his bangs. Chuckling to himself, Furihata brushed them off and looked at the clear sky.

Wow, what a beautiful day. Is this what he was missing when he had practice?

Suddenly, it dawned on him how much time basketball practice had taken up. Maybe Riko was right--he did need some time off. Shaking his hair free of any remnants of cherry pedals, he started to head toward his house.

"Yo Furi!"

Furihata turned his head back and found a surprised Koneko. 

"Hi!" He cheerily greeted.

"Don't "hi" me! Don't you have practice now? You don't look like the type to skip pra--"

"Oh, Riko kicked me out."

Koneko's eagerness faded into a look of frustrated incredulity as her arms fell limply to her side. "Fucking seriously?" She pulled her face into a frown as they began to walk side to side, "She kicks you out when you need her and the Seirin team the most?"

"Now don't say that." Furihata replied, bouncing his backpack onto his shoulders a bit better, "I mean, I get what she's saying..."

"Man, you're such a nice guy. If I were you I'd probably curse her so that she can never find a boyfriend or something." Koneko sighed, "Well, wanna get something? It's rare that I get to see you after school."

\--

Inside an elegant cafe by a secluded street sat two teenagers, both still in their uniforms from school as they conversed with much joy. The boy was bent over what seemed to be his homework as the girl giggled. 

Suddenly, a scream came from the female.

"Wait, someone confessed to you today?" Koneko screeched, her eyes wide with barely contained glee as she jumped up from her chair, "WHO? IS IT A GUY FROM OUR SCHOOL? TELL ME! I NEED TO APPROVE IT!"

Furihata chuckled embarrassedly. "Now now Koneko-chan...He's not from our school, he's just a guy who lives near me and picked me up when I was down--"

"WHAT THE UNHOLY FUCK THAT SOUNDS AWESOME!" The girl squealed, her hands on her cheeks and she twirled in the air, "SOMEONE WHO LOVES YOU EVEN THOUGH HE SAW YOU AT YOUR WORST?"

"K-Koneko-chan, the cafe's staring..."

"HA! I KNEW IT! BAKASHIT MISSED OUT BIG TIME AND THIS TREASURE NOW BELONGS TO SOMEONE ELSE! DON'T WORRY!" Koneko winked, "Anyone who likes my little Furi has good taste."

One of the cafe waitresses arrived to bring them their omelette and taro bubble tea. She didn’t say anything as she put the tray down, but her eyes sparkled as she gave Furihata a silent thumbs up. 

The brunette sweatdropped.

She exchanged an approving look with Koneko, who almost cried in joy, while her male colleague just stood behind them with a confused look on his face. As she left, the pig-tailed female took a deep breath and sat down. “So, aside from telling me about your new boyfriend--which I really appreciated, by the way--what do you want to talk about?” She asked.

Furihata unfolded the letter he had began to write at school “Uh, well.” He absent-mindedly said as he scribbled on the paper, “My family’s in a bit of a crisis, so I need another manga but I’m out of ideas.”

“No problem.” She leaned back, “You have came to the right person. I presume you are still keeping your sacred tradition of basing stories off of your basketball acquaintances?”

The brunette shot his head up in shock. “W-What?” He blinked in disbelief, “I-I-It’s not a tradition! I just always happen to be inspired by them! It’s not my fault!”

“How about something different? You can always write stories about...different people! It’s exciting, and that would lessen the GoM’s suspicions a little.”

“...Does this have anything to do with all those figure skating videos you’ve been watching?”

“Excuse me!” She hissed as she slammed her fist down on the table, “have you seen the way Katsuki Yuri interacts with his coach? Just look at the way they stare into each other’s eyes, the way they embrace each other, the way they laugh and are so comfortable with--”

“...Koneko-chan, do you even know how figure skating works?”

“No, but I know falling is bad and guys making out is good.”

Furihata hummed.

“What’s his coach’s name again?”

“Victor Nikiforov.” The sheer fact that she could pronounce that complicated Russian name told Furihata countless things about her obsession, “Seriously, they’re like, so gay it actually hurts. It’s not even the fanservicey kind! Like, Katsuki declared his love for Victor on National TV! He literally said that Victor taught him a new kind of love--”

Koneko paused to take a breath. 

“You have no idea who I’m talking about, don’t you.”

“Not really.”

The girl did a quick google search and came up with a picture of the two in question. “Here.” She handed the phone to him, “Look at them and become a fellow Victuri shipper.”

Refolding his letter into the envelop, Furihata took over the phone with a raised brow. “Victory?” He asked, incredulous, “That’s one hell of a ship na--” 

His eyes almost jumped out of his sockets when he stared at the two males in the photo. 

“What the hell.” He muttered beneath his breath, “They’re so into each other! They’s so comfortable with each other’s bodies, it’s obvious they’re together! Look, Koneko-chan. It’s pointless to argue whether or not they’ve banged anymore, is how many times they have banged and touched each other’s ding-dongs over the course of this year.”

“I know right!” Koneko’s eyes glittered as she scrolled to another pic, a gif this time, “They even bloody kissed on National TV!”

Furihata’s eyes went wide as he watched the gif, “WAIT WHAT? OH MY GOD WHAT THE FU--Okay, are there people seriously saying that they’re just friends?”

“Oh you’d be surprised.” 

Furihata rolled his eyes, as did Koneko, and he scrolled a bit more. “Jesus, are those wedding rings on their fingers? Why do these rings glitter so much?”

“Someone up there ships them too.”

“Mm-hmm.” The brunette stopped at another picture--”oh my god, isn’t this Yuri whatever-his-name-is, that guy who made a big ruckus when he chased that other Russian skater all the way to Japan?”

“Yuri Plisetsky? He’s such a cutie.” Koneko sighed, “I’m sad he doesn’t have an official ship. Yaoi has ruined me--now whenever I look at a hot guy the only thing I fantasize about is how he’d look screwing another guy.”

Furihata chuckled. “I feel you, girl.”

“No you don’t.” the girl lamented as she twirled her Taro tea, “But that’s beyond the point. How do you feel about writing a manga based off of them, just to take a break from the GoM?”

The mangaka paused as he seriously contemplated the possibility. “Nah.” He eventually said, after far too much consideration, “I’ll pass. I’m not comfortable with writing stories about real people.”

Koneko squinted her eyes suspiciously. 

“No! Seriously!” Furihata lowered his voice, “What if one of them sue me over it?! They’re both filthy rich, aren’t they?”

“Judging from how gay Victor and Yuri is, I’m pretty sure they won’t sue you. In fact, Victor just might endorse your work and post about it on his instagram or something.”

“W-what about their fans? Won’t they murder me for turning their idols into a gay ship?”

Koneko rolled her eyes. “Please, if they were an anime the series finale would have crashed tumblr or something.”

Furihata adamantly shook his head, expressing his stubborn disapproval of the idea. “I don’t know crap about ice skating, Koneko-chan. Plus, I’m too obsessed over Mayuzumi and Mibuchi. I mean, didn you see them?”

“Hell yeah!” Koneko popped up, seemingly just as excited as he was, “I mean, it’s subtle, but they are definitely together. You know that thing couples do when they have been together for way too long?”

“The thing where their personalities blend into each other?”

“Yes!” The girl propped her head up on her arms, “It was scary from a competitor’s point of view, but isn’t it so cute that Mibuchi literally took on Mayuzumi’s skill set? Like, he literally disappeared a couple times during the competition.”

Furihata nodded. “Yeah, and Mayuzumi also made a really cool shot. Kinda like the earth shot, but not quite--still difficult to block.”

“Who do you think is the top?”

“I vote Mibuchi.” the brunette grins, “It’s so obvious he’s the more open of the two! And he’s taller so that makes for easy insertion.”

“Hell no!” Koneko puffs her cheeks, “It’s obviously Mayuzumi! I mean, he’s the older and more experienced of the two, and don’t you think there’s a vulnerability to Mibuchi? He’s so ostentatious, but as I had learned, there’s usually something dark beneath an ostentatious exterior.”

“But Mayuzumi really looks like the type to ignore his feelings, doesn’t he? I mean, Mibuchi looks perfectly fine with his identity, whereas Mayuzumi’s still struggling with it. So if there’s one person that has to take the reins of the relationship and make sure it goes in the right direction, it would be Mibuchi.”

“Really? I’m thinking that it would be Mayuzumi. He just looks so calm and so analytical whereas Mibuchi is a bit more emotion-oriented…”

“But emotion-oriented isn’t necessarily bad, when you’re dealing with a relationship.”

Both sigh.

“Well, one thing we can agree on is that they’re together.” the female conceded as she sipped her tea some more. It clanked as she put it on the glass table, “Who tops whom is their own business in the bedroom.”

Furihata took out a new piece of paper to draw the storyboard. “How about I leave it ambiguous this time?” He wonders out loud, “I’ll give both of them uke-ish and seme-ish traits, and let the fans decide for themselves who’s top and who’s bottom.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” Koneko said.

“As for the plot, what do you think about the two exchanging bodies?” the artist asked, beginning to sketch down details, “Two high school students suddenly switches bodies one day. One of them is the most popular kid at school, and the other is the loser. It starts out as a typical body-swap yaoi, but then both realize each other’s insecurities and get to understand each other?”

“Nah.” The girl said, “That sounds good, but it’s a little cliche.”

“Cliche?”

“Like, I can see the ending from a mile away.”

“So...I make them not end up with each other?”

“Then what’s the point of Yaoi?”

“Hmm…” The brunette tapped his lips and his pencil wandered about on the paper, “How about the two not know each other? Like, ooh, they live on opposite sides of the world, and they are not in each other’s bodies all the time, but they discover each other in their dreams and really get to appreciate each other as humans with personalities? And the series end with them meeting for real?”

“Hmm...Do you want high school students or mature men with other responsibilities? Because both would work, just in different ways.”

“I’ll stay with the high school. I mean, mature men with other responsibilities aside from their feelings sound appealing, but I don’t think I can portray it well.”

“Do you generally think that, Mr. High-School-Yaoi-Mangaka who cooks and feeds his family?”

Furihata groaned, and he resisted the urge to fall into a sea of self pity. “Please” He hissed, pinching his temples as he let out a deep breath to calm himself, “stop making me sound like the protagonist in a tragedy. I really can’t think of myself as a victim right now.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Koneko waved her hands in a move of apology, “I didn’t mean that. It’s just that I think you have a lot more in touch with the mature version than you think, and a bit of variety is good for you. So I would recommend the mature version, if you can do it.”  
“Hmm…” Furihata jotted down some things, “How about we have Mayumibu Chi, who’s a single father that just got out of an abusive relationship with his ex-wife, and Reihiro Rei, a Japanese-American immigrant that just can’t take the pressure from Medical school anymore. Chi has no money left to feed his son and Rei feels like he disappointed his family, so they make a wish at two different water fountains at the same time.”

“Okay.”

“They switch, and they see each other’s suffering. This gives both of them a better perspective of their situation, and two people down on their luck comfort each other. They even give each other advice via post-it notes! Hey Koneko-chan, do you think I’d get product placement fees if I use the post-it--”

“No. Don’t get distracted and keep talking.”

Furihata’s heart is racing, and his hand is hurting from jotting down so much inspiration. “Right. This continues for years, and before they knew it, they were a family. Chi’s son--hmm, let’s name him Mayumibu Kuroya--became sort of a son to Rei as well. One day, Chi’s career gets better, and he receives an opportunity to work in America. Both of them realize that this is the right thing to do, so Chi moves to America. They meet each other, get married, and then the daily body swapping stops?”

Sitting across him, Koneko hummed. She sipped some more of her tea, but frowned when she realized it’s empty. “Damn, it disturbs me how fast you come up with plots for your series.” She commented as she set the porcelain cup down.

“Thanks.”

“But also.” She crossed her arms, “I mean, I’m honoured to bounce ideas with you, but don’t you have ‘My Manager can’t be this cute’ and ‘The Forest and the Moon’ already? Granted, “My Manager can’t be this cute” has an easy, slice-of-life plot you can put an end to anytime, but isn’t ‘The Forest and the Moon’ considerably difficult? I remember you crying about how hard it was to keep it up--are you sure you can add another one to the mix?”

“Well...I don’t have a choice. There are duties that needed to be fulfilled. I don’t have basketball practice anymore, though, so that will free up some time.”

The girl frowned, but relented in the end. “If you think you can handle it, go. But don’t let quality go down--you are loved because of how well done your work is, and once you lose that, it’s hard to get up.”

“Haha.” Furihata laughed breathlessly, “thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And also, I’m sorry to pry,” Koneko said, her eyebrows drooping in seriousness, “but are you sure you’re ready for a relationship? I mean, I’m no expert since I’ve never had a boyfriend, but you have a lot of stuff on your plate now, plus you literally just got rejected by a guy like, two days ago.”

Furihata closed his eyes, and let out a breath of air at this strange sense of guilt in his chest.

Even though he’s a nice guy, Kouki really, really doesn't think of Haizaki that way: he just got his heart broken by Akashi two days ago, and...it’s hard to explain, but he put a lot of emotional investment into that confession (Perhaps a bit too much, given that they didn’t know each other that well), and being rejected felt--and still feels--like losing his balance on a red, slippery tightrope. As of now, Kouki’s falling and accelerating in thin air, too suffocated by sheer disappointment and emptiness to grab hold of another hand; he’s not ready yet.

But, on the other hand, he knows the visceral, excruciating pain of being rejected by someone you like. He knows, first hand, what it feels like to muster up all the courage you had, confess, only to have your insides diced into pieces by a cold “no”; sure, Kouki could always say “no hard feelings” or “we’ll always be friends”, but no matter how many times he says those words, there will be hard feelings, and they’d never, never be just friends again.

Granted, he’s a bit terrifying to look at, but he liked him, a puny kid whose only strength is an uncanny ability to turn his acquaintances into fictional homosexuals. Enough to confess to him.

No, it’s not fine. He can’t inflict that exact same pain on him when he knows how it feels. He can’t do that. He can’t reject Haizaki-kun.

He can’t reject him.

“Well.” Koneko continued, smiling as if nothing had happened, “If you don’t want to talk about it, I’m fine. Just take care of yourself.”

Furihata forced a grin onto his face. He knew Koneko-chan was trying to be nice, but he really, really hoped that she would have forced this issue a bit more because his feelings are a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I slipped a little reference in there XD. Please forgive me.
> 
> I'm so ashamed ;-; I've been writing so little lately...
> 
> If you have any thoughts, comments, or criticisms, please leave a comment!


	24. Come clean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHA I'M SO BLOODY LAZY I CAN'T BELIEVE MYSELF LOL.  
> HERE'S AN UPDATE. I had a bit of a writer's block, but I think I have somewhat recovered. Thanks for keeping up with me!

“I owe it all to the mistake he made back then,  
I owe it all to my girl’s ex-boyfriend.”

Haizaki hummed along to the English song in his headphones, not understanding much aside from the word "boyfriend", but that alone filled him with a sense of smug pride as he swung his plastic broom from one side of the room to the other. Yes, he’s cleaning his room. Why? Because it would leave a bad impression if he was to, say, invite someone here someday for them to see this mess.

A white baseball cap fitted tightly over his cornrows, the tall male let out a groan as he bent down to pick up a greasy fast food wrapper from the floor. 

(Why a baseball cap? Because he didn’t have an authentic hair net and cornrows isn’t exactly a hairstyle beloved for its ease of cleaning.) 

Conglomerates of dust and god-knows-what formed at the edges of his otherwise brand-new broom, and when he tried to pick them off, speckles of grey flew up into the air, sticking to the edges of his nasal cavity and making him cough. They showed up on his shirt, too, staining his shirt an unbelievably dirty shade even though it was black in the beginning. 

Sighing, Haizaki took his shirt off and threw it onto his newly made bed, staring at the closet that he cleaned out a while ago. 

Speaking of his clothes...he would need to care about his appearance now that he has a boyfriend, doesn’t he? 

But now that he finally took a good look at his closet, Haizaki didn't really have much stuff, clothing or otherwise, in there. A few limp sweatpants and jackets hung here and there but seriously, the only thing that doesn't make him look like a total yakuza here is his school uniform. 

...

That's something pathetic about that, isn't there?

Hey, don't blame him. He haven't had to care about his attire in a long time. 

"Well, I'll need some new clothes." He muttered to himself as he picked up his cellphone, "but where will I get the money? 

A new job perhaps?

"Ha, as if anyone would want you." A voice sneered in his head, “You don't even love yourself. Who could possibly love you?”

"He said yes."

"Furihata's just using you as a replacement. He'll dump your sorry ass for Akashi the second that redhaired bastard tosses a second glance his way. No one wants you."

Shut up. He hissed, I'm just trying to make this last.

To be honest, Haizaki Shougo's not that optimistic about where this relationship's going: all that happened was that Furihata's a nice kid, he got rejected by a dude with a superiority complex, and Haizaki felt for the guy. That's all. And when he confessed, he was half-expecting Furihata to reject him--and it would have been fine; he wouldn't like the kid any less for of it--but since the guy said yes, Haizaki has to treat him with some respect, right? I mean, he's better that those other bitches who ask him out and then blamed him for their mistakes, right? 

If Furihata ends up thinking that Haizaki's a piece of shit, then they'll break up. No big deal. It's not like Haizaki will actually be hurt. It's not like he's trying to find love anyway. He's not trying to impress Furihata or anything.

Shougo took the jacket off of the hanger and tried to smooth out the folds with his hand. When the fabric refused to succumb to his touch, the tall male realized that he needed a clothing iron, and the only one they had was buried in a closet by the living room. 

Oh, and speaking of that living room, he would need to clean that as well as the rest of the house, wouldn't he--Furihata would see the house before he sees Haizaki's room, after all, if he ever comes over. 

Impressing someone is hard work, yo.

The tall male twisted the knob on the door that separated his room from the rest of the house, and the second he did so, a puff of putrid air knocked the breath out of his lungs: a mix of rotten food, feces, vodka, and failure. The filth seemed to not only smear itself over every tangible object, but hung pridefully on the molecules as it swung past his nostrils.

Shougo blasted some of the air freshener he used in his room before walking out and shaking his head: he thought he got used to this, but maybe he didn't. 

There was not an unoccupied corner in the room; all the space in the world, however, would not be enough for all the trash that accumulated on top of it: takeout boxes from two nights ago, bottles, cigarettes, littered all over the "dining" table, and a half-full container of god knows what sort of pills. The dilapidated television settled proudly on what used to be a TV bench, looking like it could fall anytime but still standing proud. 

When Shougo drew his index finger across the top, a grey, ashy blob formed at his fingertips, and as he spread it out on his fingers, lifeless dust mites stood out against the ash.

A momentary despair settled over him--as if nothing he did will ever be enough to fix his life--but then he took a nice, deep breath of air and tried to be optimistic. Well. He said, Time to clean.

Shougo stretched his bare muscles.

\--

It's been so long since he actually looked at this mess; holed-up in his room he was for so long, that he barely remembered what brand the TV was and the semi-pleasant memories he had here. Yes, his father was a drunkard and his mother had never been anything remotely close to what other people's mothers were, but there were times when they would let up and allow him to watch cartoons for hours on an end. He was happy then, even when his parents argued in the background.

Shougo opened up a window and smiled.

For some reason, having light and fresh air made the room feel just a bit more cheerful. Sure, everything's everywhere, and the couch still smells like shit, but this openness makes you feel that everything's only temporary, and that a clean-up’s all you need to fix everything in your life. 

Maybe that’s true, maybe that’s not. Shougo doesn’t bother with details like that. Grabbing a trash bin, he starts cleaning up.

First goes the garbage; Everything that could fit inside the 20 centimeter by 20 centimeter trash bin probably belonged in it. Rolling his imaginary sleeves up, Shougo broke out a couple of plastic bags he kept under his bed and began filling them with stuff--you know, pills, broken bottles, soiled clothes, more pills, rat kings (If you don't know what this is, google it. Apparently it's really rare, but Shougo saw two cases today.) The bags were filled in no time, and as he ran out, Shougo began to use takeout boxes and whatever containers he had as vessels to carry more. 

It's a pretty repetitive, grey job, but Shougo still managed to get lost in it; that’s what a goal does to you, he had heard. As the bags filled up, one by one, the room began to look neater. Outside, the sky transitioned from a mint-like blue to a dark grey. 

By the time he deemed his project finished, there was no light to illuminate the room with. 

\--

God knows how long it took, but after everything's done, the room finally looked somewhat presentable. A fraction of the scent still lingered, and the carpet, now nude without garbage to cover it, was still blotched with ketchup and soy sauce and whatever, but it's not something horrifically disgusting.

Satisfied, Shougo grabbed what he came for, the clothing iron, and marched back to his room--

“Ahh, Shougo... I see that you have been doing some work on this rats nest.”

Shougo turned his head and found the contributor of his X-chromosome standing haggardly behind him. Her eyes were rolled back, and the part that's white in normal people was a yellow-red blotch in hers, and it looked like her life was going to bleed out of her eyes which, quite motherfucking-frankly, would be nice. 

It’s clear that the woman had just chugged a bottle of vodka, or two, before she decided to come here and make his life miserable. Shakily, she shifted an emaciated left foot toward the sofa, and she almost fell, but her similarly emaciated right foot caught up and pulled her back into standing position. She stared as she passed Shougo--she reeked of shit, he thought--and the boy watched on with crossed arms as she repeated the movement until she got to the front of the sofa. 

Taking a deep breath, the woman bent her knees, leaned forward, the climbed onto the now clean sofa. She smirked as she looked at Shougo. “Looks like my boy got himself a girlfriend.” She said.

He didn't feel anything. “What do you want?”

“Hey.” the red between cracked lips revealed themselves as the woman leaned back, into the couch, “I am aware that I'm not what most would call a good mother, but I know that my son only cares about this place when he gets to court a lady that’s to his fancy. Who is she?”

For a second, Shougo wanted to tell her all about Furihata. Not because he trusted her, but because it’s lonely being happy all on your own and his mother's never this friendly.

But then he remembered how his mother had been for the past decade and that he had no reason to believe that she'd change. Narrowing his eyes, Shougo sat onto a table he wiped off. He hissed: “Shut up, hag.” 

The woman stilled at those harsh words. Her eyes, hauntingly similar to his own--grey without a tint of the world's joy, like a meaningless picture from long past--stared into his. She smiled, but the smile then turned into a frown, which then turned into a meniacal grin, before it flipped back to a heartbroken sigh. The air went rigid, and only the moonlight provided a vestige of clarity.

"Whatever you say, Shougo." She replied.

Just as haggardly as she came, Shougo's mother left. The teen blinked in confusion, but shrugged it off and walked into his room. When he got in there, he plugged the clothing iron in and began waiting for it to heat up.

As he waited, Shougo thought "It's gonna be the weekend soon, isn't it?"

\--

 

"Furiha-sensei:

Did the questions I pose in my last letter bother you? Are they too personal? I sincerely hope that the reason for your neglect of my previous letter is your preoccupation with more urgent matters--such as, perhaps, working on your next installment--and not offense on my part, for I would be deeply disappointed in myself if that was the case. I didn’t think my inquiries were intrusive in any way--you have asked me similar questions in a previous letter, after all, and I had not felt any discomfort when answering them. But, alas, it seems that I have a tendency to offend people without meaning to.

It is possible, though, that we have different notions of what constitutes as personal and what does not, which is completely understandable. 

But please, my dear sensei, if you take offense to anything I say, have said, and will say, know that causing harm to anyone was not my intention. I had been raised in a rather peculiar set of circumstances, and, as a result, might not have the same capacity for understanding as others do; perhaps I could parlay blame to my father, since he was the one primarily responsible for my living environment, but blaming others is not my doing. Yet...

Oh dear, I am becoming sentimental. Weepy. I'm sorry for any tear stains on this letter, I'm just a bit…angry at myself, so to speak. 

My words have hurt someone recently, and, though I have not known this individual for very long, I like him and hold warm feelings toward him. Therefore, I thought I was doing the best thing by being completely honest about my feelings, but as it may appear, I have caused him great suffering in doing so. 

This was never my intention, sensei, please believe me. Despite what my tone, apparently, may suggest at times, I am not unfeeling and I, too, suffer when others are hurt by my words. I never wanted to give those I treasure a hard time, but...I seem to do just that, and I don’t know why. 

My apologies. I should not be venting out my issues to you.

Either way, you seem to have forgotten my existence, and this letter seeks to remind you of it; if, by some chance, I did offend you and you do not wish to further converse with me, please ignore this letter as well and I will stop making myself known.

Thank you for your time,  
Red."

\--

”Hello Red:

Crap ( ;ﾟдﾟ)! Shit (;ꈡ▱ꈡ;)! Unholy mother of Yaoi, please don't be heartbroken! I had to deal with some personal issues...well that and some new ideas for an upcoming series, that's all! I didn’t mean to ignore you, I swear! 

(｡ŏ﹏ŏ) Forgive me please?

But...Uh, all joking aside, I just want to say that I’m really, like, genuinely sorry about what's happening with you and your friend right now...and I know that sounds really shallow and like I don't actually care, but I meant it. If I could, I would give you the biggest hug right now ヽ(*´_｀*) /. Because even though I don’t know anything about the person you hurt, judging from my conversations with you, you sound like a decent person who never wanted to hurt people. 

I’m really bad with words...I don't really know what I could say to make it easier on you, and I guess no words really could, when it comes to personal matters like this. Just know that I’ll be here for you whenever you need me. I swear this won’t happen again, I promise. Here, you know what, take my email: Furiha_Kou@aol.com. It's connected to my phone, so I can answer it more quickly! If you like communicating via paper that's fine too, but it's a long way from my house to the post office...

Anyway...your questions from the last letter:

How did you get into Yaoi, Sensei? 

You’d never believe me, but...I’m doing this for my family. Without going too much into details, I could really use the extra money ¯\\_(‘-`)_/¯ and this job makes a decent amount of cash while being relatively painless. You also get to experiment with...non-conventional materials, which is something I have kinda came to appreciate.

Oh, and by the way, you don’t have to call me sensei. We’re the same age, aren’t we? It feels strange getting called that by my peers, even though most of my readers are, actually, around my age.

2\. Why, of all the genres, did you pursue this remarkably quirky and niche market? Is it because of your sexuality, your girlfriend, or some other thing? 

Sorry to crush your dreams, but my reason’s nowhere as comment-worthy as you think it is. (ノ*゜▽゜*). The only reason I’m in Yaoi and not in some other genre is because that’s the only genre in which I can get away with not drawing any girls. Not that I have anything against them, just that I can’t draw them to save my life. But I’ve been improving! ╭( ･ㅂ･)و I’m pretty proud of this sketch I’ve made of my little sister, what do you think?

3\. What are some other things you take pleasure in, besides drawing?

I like trains and biology! They’re really interesting. What about you? Of course I like basketball too, despite the fact that I’m not very good at it ;-;.

Looking forward to your next letter!  
Furiha Kou

P.S.: Actually, about your friend...I just realized that I was on the opposite side of a similar issue. I had feelings for this certain someone (feelings that were quite shallow, now that I thought a bit more about it), and that someone turned me down quite harshly. Was I upset? I guess I was--after all, his words were REALLY harsh--but after thinking a bit more about it, I realized that he wasn't wrong and that he probably didn't mean to hurt me. 

Sure, he could have worded it a bit better, but he had no ill intentions and was honest about his feelings, which I appreciated after the blow passed.

Now why am I saying this? Because you remind me a little of that guy (in fact, that guy has “red” hair, haha) and since you didn't sound like you were being purposefully mean, my advice would be to not worry too much about it. Continue working on trying to understand people, but I'm guessing that since you meant well, your friend will eventually get past how biting your words came across and see that you're not a bad guy. As far as my experience goes, people won't judge you by one little blemish in your character--everyone has their faults, after all--and most are willing to deal with it if you're an otherwise decent guy. If you're really worried, talk to him and explain everything. Chances are he'll forgive you, if he hasn't already.

Good luck!”

\--

A spring breeze seeped through the leaky bus windows, slipping a trace of mint-like refreshment through the otherwise droning heat as the large vehicle pulled to a stop. When the dusty doors clunkily swung themselves open, a white, almost feather-like pedal fell from an unknown tree and slowly, steadily, danced in the tepid afternoon Tokyo air, hovering momentarily before the air carried it into the bus and it fell on Furihata’s face while the brunette cringed into his hands. 

Ahh...you see? This is why he’s a little scared of opening fanmails now.

Furihata, ashamedly, has not been productive at all these days, and he has an arguably good reason for it: it's finals, he's busy, and a lot of things have been happening in his personal life, so it's probably not a surprise that he didn't have a lot of energy for fan stuff.

But man, his fans are the most genuine sweethearts he had ever seen, and they don't deserve weeks of no updates from their favorite author just because said author's “busy”. 

And to make it worse--do you know what the worst feeling is? It is when you're a lazy, unproductive asshole, and people still care about you. Like, it's sweet of them, and it's not like Furihata wants to be hated by people but man, all these sad but adoring letters from his fans are making him feel even more awful for not doing anything these past few weeks. 

Furihata sighed and folded the letter in half, sliding it into his backpack as the old bus closed its doors, revved up its engine, and started bouncing up and down, again, as it headed toward its next destination. 

There’s not a single other passenger here; the white flower has long fell off of his forehead, so Furihata’s left to confront the loneliness and the dry, sweltering heat in the car all on his own. Well...the metal parts in the back of the bus are clanking and screaming in Furihata’s ears, but they hardly made pleasant company. No, actually, they’re the worst part of the trip. 

They really need to replace this truck, Furihata silently thought, I’ll pay higher taxes for it. He yawned and suddenly, perhaps because he hasn’t eaten yet, a sickening dizziness took over him and his stomach. He dry gagged into his hands, but thankfully there was nothing in his stomach to throw up. 

Carsickness, he rolled his eyes, of course.

Maybe that’s why no one takes this bus even though it’s the weekend and the bus passes right through the city. 

Closing his eyes, he opted to fall back into his mind.

Speaking of productivity, three series really is no joke--no wonder sensei told him to never work on more than two manga at once. It’s getting hard to keep track of his characters and all the subtle details he usually puts in his stories, and unlike in the past, the more he draws these days the less passion he has; stories are becoming less and less fun, and more and more of a chore, and Furihata has been drawing long enough to know that that’s not a good mindset to have. 

What’s even more alarming is that he’s gotten lazy about it: He longer has the energy to draw out all the gorgeous scenery he was so excited to draw in the beginning, and is now settling for simple scenes that probably looks a lot less visually appealing, because he just wants to get everything over with so that he can have a break between housework and studying and work and everything. But the more breaks he take, the more tired he becomes, and it's gotten so bad that his editor had to convince the printing house to make his work monthly instead of biweekly for him to catch up. Some critics noted this (of course they would--they criticize other people’s work for a living) but his fans were so sweet about defending him and that just makes Furihata want to curl up and cry.

Oh, how’s his family? Funny you should ask. They’re paying his mother’s bills and the utilities just fine, but little else. Furihata cut down the usual three meals in his house into two and a half (because hey, you’re not supposed to eat a lot for dinner anyway, right?) and replaced a lot of meat with vegetables in their diet (because meat is bad and veggies are good for you.) Even then, half of the cost of food had to be supported by Kokori’s job as a waitress at that goddamn diner where the owner’s adult son harasses her daily, but she puts up with it because “it pays well.”

She’s 13 for god’s sake.

Kouki bit his lips and willed himself not to cry.

He can’t even talk to Fukuda and Kawahara about anything because they’re too busy with basketball in their spare time, and he can’t say anything about his family in school.

What the hell is going on in his life? There are too many strings, too many things to think of, and in the end, he can’t do anything right. 

I miss my dad, Furihata softly reminisced, the one who could put the world on his back and still have time for his kids, who would bring me icicles from work and soft yarn for mom…

…

No. Stop it. He sharply berated with himself as he popped himself out of his self-pity, you’re not helping yourself out of this situation with this. The only one to blame for this situation is yourself, so snap out of it.

But…

No buts. Furihata slapped himself, getting a curious stare from the driver. He forced a smile, before trying to think positive thoughts.

But...He has been diligently preparing for the Yaoi Con this weekend! To be honest, the thought of exposing himself to so many people, some of which could definitely recognize him, still scares him a little (actually...a lot), even this close to the event, but some of that anxiety is definitely offset by the excitement of meeting his fans in person! He made a bunch of merchandise designs, and even have a few free giveaways that he can use to rile people up! Into buying his stuff, I mean, and to not make things look too much of a money grubbing trick.

After a lot of back-and-forth with himself, Furihata decided to not tell his fans about his familial situation. Even though their donations would probably help, nothing’s more annoying than a mediocre artist using their personal difficulties to manipulate people into supporting their work. It’s not goof for his image,and Furihata’s not desperate enough to give up his pride just yet. After all, he’s paying his mom’s bills just fine and life’s not as bad as it could be.

There’s one thing, though…

His editor had a family emergency and couldn’t attend the convention with him. Furihata doesn’t know what’s going on, but she dashed into a cab right in the middle of their meeting, makeup running down her face as she shoved him her ticket. “Please.” She had begged while sobbing, “Please...I-I’m not gonna use it anymore. U-U-Use it to bring your little sister or something...show her the good of the world, have fun, and don’t make the same mistake I did…”

There wasn’t a lot he could have said aside from a soft “Okay”.

…

…

The brunette boy gently facepalmed as he reminisced the scene. “I’m sorry for whatever happened to you, Seto-san,” he silently thought, and the clunky bus rolled to his stop, bumping his head off of its comfortable position against the back seat, “and I’m aware it must have been terrible, for the usually controlled and capable you to become so distraught. I genuinely hope everything is okay, but...”

“But who the hell would bring their little sister to a R-18 Yaoi convention? I mean, I’m 15, but I draw this stuff for a living. I can handle the filth of this world, but what about my 13-year-old and 8-year-old sisters? What if their minds become corrupted? Both of my sisters are children, for god’s sake!” 

“Ahh…” Furihata sighed as he tugged his bag, filled with drafts and drawing tools, off of the bus, “but I would feel so awful if the ticket went to waste.” 

He’d sell it if he could, but the convention strictly forbids second-hand selling, not that he had anyone to sell it to in the first place--Koneko’s busy on that day, most of his friends have basketball practice (and those that don’t are coming to beat him up at the convention), and his family is just...no.

Maybe send it to Red? He sounds like a mature high-schooler who can handle seeing a couple of anime men performing some potentially kinky scenes with each other. 

Nah, it’s too late. The convention’s coming quick, he wouldn’t have time.

Speaking of Red...is it really okay for him to give out his email like that? I mean, it is for work-related things, but his inbox was not created so that people can send letters or fanart to it; in fact, if all of his fans actually swarmed it with these things he would have to close it, since all the important stuff for which he actually created that email for would be lost in the mess, and he doesn’t want to deal with that.

Why did he do it in the first place? 

Right, because Red sounded absolutely distraught. 

Man, for all Red said about not being able to understand people’s feelings, he sure is good at making Furihata feel like a jerk. In fact, now that he looked at the letter closely, every sentence seemed to reek of perfectly elegant sadness (almost like someone spent a semester working on it), and though he understands that that’s just how Red writes, and still thinks that he's a cool guy, Furihata definitely sees what the guy’s talking about. This fella can definitely come across as a little haughty and manipulative. 

Almost like someone else you knew. 

Or maybe it’s just you.

Oh well, Red doesn't sound like a bad guy. Communicating with him is fun, and the guy sounds like a fairly intelligent person who's interested in understanding the man behind the Yaoi. 

Furihata yawned and tilted his head back, rubbing his eyes as he contemplated the recent haul of events. The elevated shoulder caused the old, patchy backpack to slip down the other arm, but the boy didn’t notice until he started moving his foot toward his house, and the bag almost fell into the dust. 

Ah, speaking of that guy--just so you know, Furihata’s recovering rather nicely from the rejection. Like he said in the letter, he had came to realize that his feelings were quite shallow--I mean, he barely talked to the guy! What did he know about Akashi? Akashi had every right to accuse him of being utterly unaware, of romanticizing him to the extent of not understanding what it would mean to be involved with such a person, and, well, once Furihata got that through his thick skull, he’s fine. 

A bit wounded, but fine.

Plus, he has someone else now. Even though Furihata doesn’t really know where their relationship is going (And Haizaki doesn’t seem to, either), they have been walking to school together and learning interesting things about each other. For example, did you know that Haizaki was at the winter cup too? Apparently he went up against Kise--Furihata didn’t remember that at all! But once again, he did have a bit of a selective memory.

Oh, and Haizaki’s reflexes are fast enough to jump in front of a bus, save a dog, and run back in less than 3 seconds. That’s impressive, isn’t it? But, to be honest, Furihata’s more surprised by the fact that he’s willing to do that --even though he looks (and to a certain extend, sounds) mean and uncaring, Haizaki seems to genuinely care about the well-being of other people. And he’s not doing it just to impress Furihata--in fact, if anything, he’s trying to hide it. Maybe it interferes with his macho image.

Walking down a familiar concrete road, Furihata hummed a familiar tune as he passed by familiar houses whose familiar features he never paid much attention to, and still doesn’t pay much attention to as he made his way toward his house; streaks of red and violet illuminated the otherwise ashy sky above him, and Furihata smiles. 

“Looks like it's gonna be a good day tomorrow.” he thought. 

When he arrived, he gently opened the door. “I’m home!” He called, “Mom? Where are you?”

The grey room echoed with lifeless silence. A stale voicelessness permeated the place, and Kouki’s greeting died at the door. It did not reach the rest of the house; the boy’s voice fell right there, like a bowling ball onto a weak, pathetic sponge. Within seconds, every single cell in Kouki’s body froze.

“Mom?”

Once again, nothing. 

His eyes went wide, and his muscles tensed at the second lack of reply. He rapidly unlocks the door, dashes into the living room, backpack falling onto the sofa with a loud “thud” as its owner jumped straight into his mother’s bedroom. Distinct, sneaker-like footprints made their ashen mark on the pale carpet, all manners having been forgotten at the dark implication of what’s about to come. “Mom, are you there?” He all but screamed as he swung the door open, “Don’t--”

His mother lies limply on her bed, the suspicious lack of movement making her appear almost lifeless. Her skin glowed a paleish hue, and the sapphire veins bulged like an ill tattoo, and when Kouki touched her, she was cold to the touch--like a corpse.

“Mom?” He whispered shakily, “Mom? P-Please wake up, it’s not funny…”

No movement. 

Megumi has woken up from her afternoon nap and is standing by the door, staring at them with the confused innocence of an 8-year-old.

“M-mom? P-please be okay...Mom?”

Her pallid eyelids don’t even flutter on her expressionless face.

“M-mom?” He reaches out to touch her, gently pinching her arms and still, she doesn’t move. 

Furihata Kouki falls to his knees, not quite understanding the situation he’s in. His little sister platters--barefeet--across the wooden floor to comfort him, but he’s not even crying; he wants to, but he couldn’t.

Someone once said that if you’re filled to the brim with despair, you become incapable of tears.

“Mom.” He mutters, knowing that it probably won’t do much, “Please, wake up!”

No answer.

“Mom, please.”

There was no movement. Some windbells ring jarringly.

And then the woman opened her eyes, blinking once, twice, thrice before yawning and shaking her head of sleep. She scooted onto a nearby pillow, looked around, and smiled upon seeing her son and daughter on the ground beside her.

“Oh hey.” she asked, scratching her head, “Kouki, Megumi, is everything alright?”

“Hi mommy!”

Kouki snapped out of his melancholy. He turned his head, and narrowed his gaze as mother’s eyes met son’s.

“What were you doing? You scared me!”

“W-what?” the woman blinked, before putting her hands went up in defense, “I was taking an afternoon nap!”

Kouki let out an exasperated groan as Megumi wrapped herself around their mother, couldn’t help feeling scared out of his mind even though he knew that he’s overreacting in this situation. God, he feels like the mother here. “I thought you left earth or something.” He said as he got up from the floor, “How’s things going, anyway? Have you been taking these medication like the doctor told you to?”

Weakly, the mother smiled. “I have,” She said, “since you paid for them. But I’m really not sure that they’re making anything better.”

“Really? Are the meds not working? Are there side effects?”

“No, not really. I just don’t think that they’re doing what they’re supposed to do.”

“What do you mean?’

“J-just a woman’s intuition, dear.”

Kouki blinked, before shrugging. “Well, you’ll probably get better.” 

“I hope you’re right, Kouki, I hope you’re right.” His mother sighed, “At least let me make it until you come back from Kyoto. Oh!” the woman’s eyes suddenly lit up at the mention of the word. Grinning, she whispered to Megumi, who reached for what seemed like a piece of innocuous fabric by her side. “Speaking of the convention, Kouki~” She sang, beckoning him over “come here!”

“What?”

“I made this for you to wear at the convention!”

“You didn’t have to make me anything--” Kouki complained, before blinking at the what Megumi held in her hands.  
I...Is that him, or is that a sweater with Akashi Seijuurou’s face on it?

Kouki rubbed his eyes, and…

Yep, that’s a sweater with Akashi Seijuurou’s face on it. Cool.

…

... 

“MOM YOU MADE ME A SWEATER WITH AKASHI SEIJUUROU’S FACE ON IT? WHAT--” 

“Oh, that’s his name?” His mother beamed, grinning, “I like it.”

“Yeah..” no...wait, something’s wrong about this! “Wait, WHERE DID YOU GET THE PICTURE OF HIM?”

“Megumi was cleaning the house the other day” the little girl nodded, and mom continued, “and she stumbled upon your tablet, which you forgot to lock. There were all these pictures of this guy, so we figured that he must be a character in your story! So I thought ‘wouldn’t it be kinda cute if Kouki wore a sweater with his character’s face on it’ to the convention and voila! How do you like it?”

I mean, objectively, it was a well-made piece of clothing--the pale blue and white backdrop really accentuated the eccentricity of the chiseled face--but no. NO! 

YOU CAN’T JUST MAKE HIM WEAR THE FACE OF A GUY WHO REJECTED HIM TO A CONVENTION WHERE THAT GUY’S GOING TO BE. JUST...NO! 

“I-I-I can’t possibly wear this!”

His mother pouted. “Why? I worked a lot on this!”

“B-b-but, no.” Kouki coughed, “This is actually a real person, mom, and he, like, lives in Kyoto. It’s kinda weird if I wear someone’s face to a convention that takes place where he lives.”

“Oh.” His mother replied. Megumi picked up her handwork--a little pink hat--as the woman raised an eyebrow: “But there were naked pictures in there, Kouki?”

Oh that. “I...guess you can say he’s a famous athlete? He has a couple of half-naked pictures circulating around the internet, so I used a couple of these as references for my drawing, haha...”

“Really?”

“U-uh, yeah, totally!”

(He’s technically not wrong--you’d be surprised at how easily you can find nudes of Akashi, or those of any other generation of Miracles, on google just by searching. Not that he has done it himself--okay, fine, he had. ONCE.) 

His mother smirked and bursted into a small, albeit cheeky laugh. “That’s adorable!” She said, “My Kouki’s idolizing this guy so much that he drew no less than 50 pictures of him in three months? Then you should still wear the sweater to showcase your adoration! Hell, you might even get a signature!”

“U-u-uh…that’s not how it works...”

“Why not?”

“I-isn’t it embarrassing asking for someone’s signature while wearing their face? I mean, I don’t know him well or anything...”

“Not at all!”

Damn it, there’s no way he’s going to explain himself out of this.

“Wear the sweater, please?”

Kouki facepalmed, relenting to his fate. “Fine. But it’s still creepy as hell.”

His mother grinned and fell back into her pile of pillows, returning to the half-dead state Furihata found her in. Sweater in hand, Furihata walked back to his room and sighed. Is he going to actually wear this? If he doesn’t wear it, it’s kinda disrespectful to his mom, but if he does wear it…

It’s kinda disrespectful to both Akashi and Haizaki-kun, isn’t it?

Even though Furihata isn’t sure about his feelings for him, he’s still technically the taller man’s boyfriend. Even if the other doesn’t know about this side of him, it’s still kind of a horrible thing to do, just for his own conscience.

\--

Haizaki Shougo tugged at his plain white t-shirt, trying to loosen it around his neck and resisting the urge to strip it off and get some of that delicious afternoon wind on his skin. This urge is not helped by the not-too-skinny, not-too-loose ripless jeans that hung snugly on his waist; along with the clean converse on his feet, everything makes him a little uncomfortable as the guy carried a heavy bag in one hand and a heavier one in the other. A couple of elderly people stared at him strangely, and he glared back at them, before turning back to fret over his clothing, and then some more:

He looks fine, right?

He threw out a bunch of his clothes along with the trash in his house (because let’s be honest, they belong there), so he had to find some new clothing to dress up in, to show respect towards his new...boyfriend, right? 

I mean, he’s prepared for a breakup anytime, but he has to work to make it last while it can, right?

So there’s nothing wrong with robbing a rich kid to get the money for that and a couple of groceries, right?

…

Haizaki stopped, thought for a second, and shrugged. 

Ehh, who cares anyway.

He walked until he reached where Furihata was. Standing in front of the Furihata residence, the male checked his attire one more time, before knocking. 

“Coming!” a cheerful voice rang.

And soon the short little guy popped up in front of him, donning an apron--ah, so he must be cooking before Haizaki came in. His eyes became immediately drawn to the succulent Bacon popping out of one of his packages (not his clothes, okay) and Haizaki moved the bag towards him. 

“O-oh,” The boy stuttered, after realizing the other male’s intention, “U-uh, no. I-I-I can’t do that to a guest.” 

And Haizaki groans.

“It’s for you, cook it.”

“N-no! I mean, you bought it with your money--”

“Fine. I’ll be eating here tonight, take this as payment.”

“S-still…I can’t do this--”

Haizaki rolled his eyes, grabbed the bag, and lifted it above Kouki’s head, out of his reach. “If you won’t cook it, then I won’t give it to you--”

“NO!” Furihata screamed, involuntarily. The saliva almost drooled down his chin as he moved his mouth, and Haizaki smirked. He shoved the bacon towards Furihata who, now embarrassed, took the bacon and told Haizaki to wait for him on the sofa. 

Well, Furihata didn’t need to tell him to do that; by this time the Haizaki has already occupied the sofa. Letting out a breath, Haizaki smiled into a pillow as he sunk into the fabric.

Oh man, he loves Furihata’s place. It’s so warm, and even though the whole place could use a bit of cleaning (even though Furihata’s house is a kind of warm messiness that made the whole place look human, unlike his) it’s makes him feel safe; he can sleep anytime here, and trust that no one is out for his life.

Something gets in the elder’s way as he lies down, and thinking that it’s nothing too important, he shoved it off of his sleeping place.

It was an unzipped backpack and softly, noiselessly, everything fell out. Haizaki got up, stared at the mess, and realized that he should probably help clean up. While Furihata busied himself in the clamorous kitchen, Haizaki bent over the fallen objects.

There were some rulers, a couple of pens and pencils, and...these papers. Oh, they look like manga columns. Furihata’s drawing manga? Cool.   
Wait, doesn’t his style look familiar? 

Haizaki’s eyes widen.

“Oh hey Haizaki-kun, do you want--”

Furihata steps out of the kitchen, and, upon seeing Haizaki with the papers in his hand, his face goes pale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the convention, and I'm looking forward to writing it because I'm introducing a new character, finding out something unexpected about an already existing character, and doing some progression in relationships! I promise this will be fast!
> 
> Sorry if this chapter isn't quite good--I've been needing a bit of time to recover my passion for writing lol.
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you have any comments, criticism, or suggestions, please don't be afraid to drop a review!
> 
> Oh, and by the way, I may be slow but I'm not giving up on this fic. Thanks.


	25. The YaoiCon! (Pt 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHAHA I HAD FINALLY UPDATED! I mean, it's been a long time, but the wait was shorter than the last update, right? ;)
> 
> I know there's been a lot of anticipation for this chapter, and even though AkaFuri hasn't met yet (they will in the next chapter, I promise) I really, really hope this lives up to your expectations. '~' And as promised, Haizaki's endgame made an appearance here (I'm not telling you who) and you find out something interesting about one of the other characters. He will be an important sidekick from now on!

Furihata slumped against the window as the sleek train hummed beneath his feet. The movie-like scenery rolled past him like a silent film, and the peaceful motion pushed him in one direction between sleeping and staying awake, while a somewhat unlucky premonition shoved him the other way.

No, he didn’t get any sleep last night. Maybe it's because he's nervous, maybe it’s because he's afraid of getting brutally murdered (by a rainbowed-coloured gang, to be exact), or maybe he finally caught the Kagami virus after being the tiger’s teammate for so long, who knows? 

“Yo, Furihata, this is fuc--I mean, freaking lit!”

Oh, and this guy’s not helping either. 

\--

Haizaki sat blankly still on the couch, the incriminating evidence still in his hands when chocolate eyes stared horrifyingly into grey ones. 

Furihata wanted to scream. Before he could open his mouth, however, he recalled (with extreme horror) an explicit scene he drew just a second ago and realized that nothing, not even screaming like a banshee, will help him out of this situation. Thus, still screaming on the inside, horror faded into dread, and Furihata Kouki resigned to his fate.

(If you look beyond the chihuahua’s slightly melodramatic mental gymnastics, however, you’d notice that Haizaki wasn’t particularly disgusted at what he saw.) 

Wordlessly, the older boy studied the sheet of paper in his hand one more time (which just so happened to have the sex scene on it and--oh god, it looks so much racier than he remembered it being), before bending down and picking up the rest. By the time Furihata managed to stop him, Haizaki appeared to be drowning in the story. 

“U-uh.” The brunette mumbled, “Y-you can just, uh, leave that there…”

“Oh no.” Haizaki replied, calmly, “Don’t worry about me. I will take responsibility for this later, just let me finish this page.”

“A-ah, no! Y-y-you don’t h-have to do that!”

“I want to. Please?”

Holy crap this is so embarrassing! Furihata thought as he buried his face in his hands, suddenly dizzy with embarrassment as Haizaki raised an eyebrow. Is he hypoventilating? He’s too messed up to care, but anyway...He can’t believe this is happening to him, of all people!  
Although to be honest, he had it coming...

“U-uh...p-p-p-please don’t read them.”

“Why?” the taller boy frowned, pouting a little bit as he caressed the papers with his fingertips, “I won’t do anything strange in your living room, I promise.”

“W-what do you mean by s-- ”

“Pretty please?”

W-What in the world was Haizaki making that face over? Shouldn't he be the one that's emotionally wrecked here? He's the high school boy whose identity as a yaoi mangaka just got found out by a fellow high school boy, god damn it! 

Everyone knows how tolerant high school boys are towards homosexuals, right?

“C-Can’t you not read that?”

“But these works were drawn to be viewed, are they not?"

Y-yes, but not by you! Furihata’s almost crying out of embarrassment at this point. Oh great, he thought, Haizaki will never talk to him again. And that’s not the worst of it--He had respected Furihata so much before this, had felt (groundlessly, in Kouki’s opinion) guilty for being a bad person in comparison to Kouki, but what will he think now? W-what if he badmouths him all around the neighborhood and spreads rumors about how perverted the good child of the Furihatas actually is? Ka-boom, there goes Kouki’s reputation! Now all the old ladies will gossip behind his back, and all the girls (and boys) will avoid him, and he’ll be alone, and--

(Once again, if you actually looked beyond Kouki’s mental gymnastics you’d see that Haizaki wasn’t that disgusted at what he saw. But alas, not being melodramatic has never been one of Kouki’s strong suits.) 

Every square centimeter of his animal brain is telling him to run, to buy a train ticket and start life somewhere else. However, he knew he had to do something. The raging paranoia of being further embarrassed by his chosen line of profession was quickly and ruthlessly pressing the brunette beyond his usual boundaries, and suddenly, "I don't want you to look at this", was all the brunette could think as Haizaki bent over his scattered work again. Blood boiled behind thin skin, and Furihata found himself unable to differentiate between fear and anger when he hissed, tone surprisingly absolute (aside from the stutter): 

“I-I, as an a-a-a-artist, p-personally find you looking at m-my work without my p-p-p-permission very rude. T-thus, please put my papers down u-until I give you permission to do otherwise. I d-don't like it, a-a-and that r-r-r-reason's sufficient enough.”

The room fell silent. 

Haizaki looked at Furihata incredulously from the floor and almost reflexively, the brunette's blood chilled. The thought of offending people terrified him more than anything, after all, and he was about to bow and apologize when the taller male let out a sigh and flopped back onto the couch--Resignation wrote all over his features, but he looked happy. 

“Fine.” the taller male huffed, “It’s rare for you to stand up for yourself, so I won’t spoil myself today.”

Oh that's good...Eh?

“Wait…” the shorter asked, confused, “What do you mean by ‘spoil yourself’--”

“I meant the newest ‘Forest and Moon’ update, of course!” Haizaki pouted indignantly--a somewhat strange expression when you combine it with his hairstyle and his general aura--as his cheeks puffed up, “do you have any idea how much I loved that series? I actually went through the time and trouble of dealing with a bunch of judgmental pricks at the bookstore to buy every volume since it came out, and I don’t even get to look at a leaked draft of these two fuc--I mean, going at it for the first time.”

“I'm fine, though.”The cornrowed man fluttered his eyelids sadly and stared off into nothing, “That’s totally fine. It’s your right. I’m not sad or anything--Even though Azuki and Moritaka are finally doing it and I don’t get to see it--I’m fine. Just somewhat emotionally broken.” He turned his body and buried his face in the couch. "Seriously, how could you leave both 'My Manager can't be this Cute' and "The Forest and the Moon' on a cliffhanger, and not expect me--or any other decent fan--to jump out of a building when there's a leaked draft? You've been so productive lately, with all these interesting stories and plot twists and that gorgeous, gorgeous mugshot of our favorite idols at the end...Ah, but you're right, it's your work and you decide what to do with it...but that doesn't stop my heart from bleeding when the prize is dandled in front of me, kay? I'd do anything to see these two happy, even though I do care about your happiness more--"

What...the...

Warning: Furihata exe. is responding slower than usual due to the massive amount of information he received from that rant. 

(Although to be fair, it's not a lot of information. It's just that Furihata didn't expect any of it.) 

After a couple of seconds, Furihata put two and two together and almost screamed. 

“Haizaki-kun... you not only read yaoi, but are also my fan?!”

“OF COURSE I AM?!” The elder boy yelled as he flipped himself over, knocking over some more papers in the process as his entire skin flushed, “Wha--Of course I am! I have been following you since your debut, and have read every single work of yours until I could recite the plot backwards! I can't say I spent money on them all…” He stared at Furihata, “Wait.”

Haizaki opened his mouth as, for the first time, the info finally hit him.

“F-Furihata Kouki i-i-is Furiha Kou. I-I am dating my favorite artist.” the older male breathed, falling back into the couch, “O-o-oh god…”

Furihata couldn’t do anything but let out a wry smile.

“I-I got really lucky didn’t I?”Haizaki grabbed his hair and laughed exhaustedly, as if he had just finished a marathon: “I-I really should have brought something for you to sign with--here,” He reached behind the sofa cushions, removing a pen, “take this.”

Furihata caught it, and the brunette frowned.

“Sharpie ultra-thick?”

“Leave your mark on me, sensei. Make it nice, big, and dark--put it where everyone can see, so that the whole world would know how I feel about you.”

…

Okay then? 

Furihata took the sharpie and made a little signature on Haizaki’s forearm. To be honest, it’s a bit shakier than usual since 1, he’s a bit nervous and 2, an arm’s usually not his preferred stationary, but his signature’s illegible either way so he’s satisfied. A strange kind of dread built up as he asked: “So...Y-you’re not disgusted by the thought of a man drawing...this kind of stuff?”

“Why would I be?” Haizaki raised an eyebrow, “Where's the problem? Like, if girls can draw two men making out, then a man should be able to do the same.”

A heavy stone landed in Furihata’s stomach; the echo simultaneously comforted him, and made him feel more dread than he has ever felt in his life.

“Honestly,” the elder male shrugged, “does it matter that much? Regardless of gender, you make good art, and I appreciate it; regardless of what you do to support your family, you’re a cool guy, and I appreciate that too.”

The dread began to spread. Unlike what he felt when his backpack fell, this particular kind of dread does not rush adrenaline through his arteries and turn his head blank. He does not scream; instead, the dread eats him alive, encroaches on his body from the inside out, shrinking his veins and eating his conscience up bit by bit, and looking at Haizaki's smile, Furihata felt it. The hurt that man would feel in the future.

The process starts today.

“So I don’t take issue with it...but ahh!” Haizaki looked up into the ceiling, stroking his practically non-existent beard in what looked like contemplation, “It still feels a bit surreal; I’m dating my favourite author, but it's you, so...what should I consider you? My boyfriend, or my beloved sensei? I don’t know how to feel about this.”

Furihata doesn’t know how to feel either, Haizaki. If only you had been disgusted with me, the shorter boy thought blankly, this would have been the perfect opportunity for a breakup. Sure, you'd tell the entire neighborhood, and my reputation would be ruined, but no feelings would be hurt, right? You'd be fed up with me, and I'd have a rightful reason to break up with an asshole--

But in the end, not only weren’t you disgusted, you supported me. You told me that I shouldn’t be ashamed of my talent, that you loved my work enough to spend money on it.

You're my fan. You're a decent guy. You confessed to me, and I accepted it even though I didn't feel the same.

For the first time in this relationship, Furihata felt that he had done an awful thing.

\---

On the smooth sailing train, a fuzzy hat covered Furihata’s face as the smaller brunette’s chest breathed rhythmically up and down, carrying the sunglasses on his head with it. No artificial lights were turned on in the morning car, and the natural sunlight shone in with full force; it's warm, yet it’s not the height of day yet so even though the entire car glowed like the fresh linen that lined it, there was no increase in temperature. 

Softly, the light bounced off of glossy white tables, and Haizaki was reading a manga (not telling you by which author) in the midst of the chit-chatting atmosphere when he looked out the side of his eye.

Furihata was wrinkling his eyebrows and biting his lip. When Haizaki took a closer look, the smaller male was crying and choking on his breath. Worried, he quickly shook him awake. 

He asked: “Furi? Hey, Furi, are you okay?”

Blinking, Furihata sluggishly opened his half-asleep eyelids and was greeted by the sight of fellow trainriders appreciating the view. The gentle light did not hurt his newly opened eyes, and yawning, Furihata managed to glared a little at his companion. 

"I could have used the sleep, Haizaki-kun" he said. 

“Hey!” the other teen put up his hands up in defense. "It was for your own good!"

"Oh really."

"You looked like you were in pain just then...Are you okay now?"

At Haizaki’s words Furihata stilled, before reaching a hand towards his eyes and wiping away a tear. Smearing out the transparent liquid on his fingertip, he looked a bit guilty, like that wasn’t supposed Haizaki was supposed to witness. "Don't worry about it." the brunette eventually laughed awkwardly, "It's nothing big."

"Ya sure?"

"I'm positive. Must be from all the stress I'm feeling lately."

Haizaki frowned as Furihata got up and stretched beside him. Something’s telling him that what the younger teen told him was a complete lie, but he didn’t have the energy to overthink it as the train became suddenly turbulent with personnel moving in and out of the car. "Is it really that bad?" He replied, raising an eyebrow, "The thing with those rainbowheads? Listen, I will make sure that--"

"I'm fine." The brunette chuckled, "If they touch me you'll give them hell, right? Thanks...even though I'm sure it won't come to that."

\---

Actually, he's not. These guys were pretty angry with him, and they're hormonal teenage boys, what do you expect? 

Oh, by the way, later that day when Haizaki figured out that Furihata will be attending this convention, he volunteered--meaning that Kouki didn’t do anything, kay--to do anything Furihata asked for in exchange for a ticket. Since he had an extra ticket, Furihata figured it wouldn't hurt to bring him along and put the extra ticket to good use, so he took the deal and told him about what happened in Maji Burgers that day, and...the guy's tall, fierce, and Furihata could really use a bodyguard, so why not?

"Oh, by the way, is that a new hairstyle?" inquired Furihata, changing the topic as he noted the older male’s new hairstyle. Instead of black cornrows, straight, but stubbornly rough silver hair now jutted all about the older boy's face, and some effort was clearly put into arranging the locksA couple of strands jutted out in front his forehead, and the younger reached out to touch it. 

His hand was slapped away. "Yeah." The other man replied, "You like it? Don't touch it, though--I don't like it when people touch my hair."

Furihata does. It takes the thuggish air away from him and makes the tall guy almost...cute.

"It's cute." the brunette replied.

The cornrow--no longer cornrowed, but silver-haired male looked away. "Thanks." He muttered, "I would have preferred 'hot' but 'cute' would do too. What is the time anyway?"

Furihata looked down, and a quick glance at his cellphone said 8:07. "It's eight already," the brunette replied, letting out another yawn as he thought about the amount he slept, "so we're arriving in a little less than twenty minutes. I should be waking up anyway, thanks."

Haizaki shrugged. "Oh, don't worry about it.” He replied, nonchalantly, “If you're really thankful you could always let me read your drafts before you publish them..."

The brunette let out a awkward laugh as he momentarily took off his sunglasses to wipe them. Seconds after his eyes were exposed to the unfiltered light, someone grabbed his shoulder and the small male didn't even have the chance to be surprised before he came face to face with another short brunette around his age. 

Most of the guy’s brown hair was covered by a leopard print fedora, and thick, rainbow brimmed glasses framed his hazel-coloured eyes. He had a rather fair face--talking about both skin tone and features here--but a crease had settled between his light brows, possibly suggesting that the individual had a habit of frowning or apologizing. He’s wearing metallic gold skinny jeans and a highlighter yellow jacket, and--

"Furihata-kun?" The other asked, “Is that you?”

\--God that outfit is the ugliest he had ever seen in his life. But anyway, his hand was firm against Furihata’s shoulder, and aside from the glasses, this face looks a bit familiar--

Wait, that voice.

“Furihata-kun, what are you doing here?”

Furihata pulled back and at the familiar sight, screamed: “...Sakurai?!" 

\--

It's 8:10 in the morning, and smooth jazz played in the background while shoppers’ chatter slipped through the transparent glass walls. But otherwise, the quaint Starbucks was quiet with the buzz of Saturday morning coffee. The unfortunate Barista who was stuck with this shift yawned into her hand and brushed a hand through her loosely tied ponytail; looking a bit bored, since not a lot of customers needed her help right now. Sitting cross-legged on one of the creamy leather chairs, Seijuurou silently observed his companion while said companion warmed his cold hands with green tea.

Green tea and nothing else, because Midorima Shintarou was never one to handle caffeine or milk. 

He looks a bit out of it today, the shorter noted in what is possibly the underestimation of the century: The taller teen’s staring into nothing, he’s fumbling his words when he has to actually talk to people, and to make everything worse, he forgot to check Oha Asa--he didn’t even remember that he had forgotten until Seijuurou reminded him. None of this ever happened unless he was troubled (and for the last one, it never happened, period). And sitting here today, he’s retreating more into himself than usual.

The redhead sighed and took a sip from his dark roast. 

He’s not stupid; he knows that Shintarou could only be this way for one person.

Takao Kazunari hadn't talked to Shintarou since their last meeting at Maji Burgers. It was as if, on that day, the Shutoku point guard just decided that Shintarou was the plague and that he didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. He stopped studying with him for exams (not that Shintarou ever got anything out of them, as far as Seijuurou knew), ignored him during practice, and even though he came to Akashi's mansion last night as per the promise, he went out of his way to spend an extra 4000 yen just so that he'd be on Shintarou’s unlucky train for the day. 

And now that he’s here and had to actually acknowledge Shintarou’s existence at times, Takao kept any interaction they had as curt and cold as possible (as if they weren’t “best friends” just a month prior to this), preferring instead to ferret into other people’s matters while Shintarou retreated even more into the shell of loneliness and fake indifference that had comforted him during the Teiko days. 

Being his friend, Seijuurou knew that the green-haired male is blaming himself more than anyone; he’s so confused and so desperate, but he’d never admit any of it to himself or anyone else.

And if you asked the redhead what he thought about all of this, he’d say that he’s planning to skin Takao alive. The thought of his ex-teammate, his friend being emotionally tortured by someone he trusted, someone the seemingly cold person had gone so far as to call his best friend is just that infuriating to him, and last night, Seijuurou just barely held back from asking:

How dare he do this?

How dare he go through the tedious process of earning Shintarou’s trust, and then to use it against him?

How dare he call Shintarou his “best friend”, yet not understand how much such matters hurt him?

Seijuurou didn’t know why Takao’s doing this, or why Shintarou’s so upset over him, but whatever reason he might have, this is unacceptable. 

“Look,” the redhead offered, catching Shintarou’s green eyes for the first time since they got here, “Would it be helpful if I talked to Takao?" 

The taller didn’t say anything.

"It appears that he’s quite important to you, and his recent...actions have hurt you quite significantly.”

Shintarou turned his head back down towards his tea, focusing instead on how the leaves floated about the green liquid beneath the barely visible orifice. Seijuurou eyed him hopelessly.

“He’s coming to the convention today, is he not? I could talk to him then.”

The taller male looked up briefly but quickly returned to his original position, silent. He stared at the mist rising from his drink, and finally muttered: “...I-I don’t know.”.

“Shintarou, please, things can’t go on like this. Either some misunderstanding had taken place, or he’s simply not worthy of the affection you had previously given him. Please, let me take care of this.”

“B...but I…”

“But what, Shintarou?” Seijuurou asked patiently, a rare desperation leaking through his usually controlled voice, "Let me help, please."

The teacup held in long fingers released its aromatic fragrance into the Starbucks atmosphere, and the man’s blank expression did not change as he continued to fumble with it, his expression unreadable. Silently, the pair sat. 

The background music began to switch from jazz to cheesy pop music. 

After a couple of minutes in silence, the green-haired man muttered out a reply: “I don’t think that will help anything, Akashi.”

“Why?”.

Shintarou looked to his side, bangs and glasses conveniently obfuscating any thoughts he had. 

“Akashi…I don’t know anything, but...I’m thinking that the problem might not be with Takao here. I-I think it has to do with me and my jumbled feelings...and the fact that I’m dating you--”

He fingered the side of his cup, and Seijuurou raised an eyebrow.

“...You mean he doesn’t like me?” he raised his voice, waking the sleepy barista up with the barely concealed menace in it, ”What kind of friend takes issue with someone dear to them finding happiness?”

“Akashi, I--”

“If he had an issue with me, then he ought to talk to me, not take it out on you. Plus, he doesn’t have a right to be angry here. You two weren’t dating, were you?”

How dare Takao Kazunari masquerade as a friend, and then hurt him? 

What kind of a friend is that? 

If your support for someone is only based on their attention being devoted entirely to you, then don’t even pretend to support them in the first place! Why? Because it’s not that person you care about, it’s your own pathetic feelings. You don’t really care about their happiness and how they feel, you just want to say you care because it makes you feel good. 

What could be more selfish than that?

“I’m talking to Takao about this, and that’s final. No buts.” Seijuurou declared, harshly slamming his coffee cup into the table, making a clanking sound against painted wood, “He needs to understand the gravity of the situation--”

“Don’t do that, Akashi.” Shintarou interrupted. 

“What--”

“Please don’t.” Shintarou’s eyes were unreadable when they met heterochrome, “I know you’re doing this out of kindness, but I want to sort this out on my own.”

“But--”

“No buts, please.” the green-haired man let out a wry smile, “this is between Takao and I...and no one else.”

Seijuurou stared at him disbelievingly. Shintarou stared back. 

Some wordless arguing took place between the two as business picked up in the Starbucks. Seijuurou pushed for a talk with Takao, and Shintarou said no. In the end Shintarou won, and the redhead let out a disgruntled sigh as he fell back into his chair, giving a “do what you want” shrug to Shintarou while shaking his head on the inside. 

Right, Seijuurou thought begrudgingly as he gulped his coffee (not a good idea since it’s still hot), like Midorima Shintarou ever knew what to do in these situations. Remember in middle school when a girl almost guilted you into a relationship with a couple of pretty words? Who had to save you back then?

I’m talking to Takao, whether you like it or not.

\---

The Touou member’s eyes widened as he met Furihata’s gaze. 

"Oh my god!" He exclaimed, blinking, "It’s really you! What are you doing here? I sat across from you all this time and didn't recognize you until you took your sunglasses off!”

God damn it, Furihata should have kept those glasses on.

“Judging from your getup you're here for the YaoiCon as an artist too, right?" 

"Yeah--” Furihata asked, suddenly suspicious, “you said 'as an artist...too'?"

Sakurai sighed. "Well there’s no point in hiding now--”he said, smiling cheekily and pointing at his fedora, "Yep, I'm a yaoi mangaka in business too! I know how tough it is, so don't worry--I’m not telling you off to anyone."

Man, Furihata really needs to up his concealment game; three people have found about his secret already, and they're all nice...but that's beyond the point. He shouldn't have to rely on others to not embarrass himself. 

Quietly berating himself, the boy figured he might as well take his hat off too--it's hot here, and what are the chances of another person knowing him in this train? The Touou student, too, took off his hat and reached for a water bottle. 

"What's your pen name, Furihata-kun?" he asked as he twisted open the cap , "I'm guessing that you don't go by your real name? I mean, I apologize for not knowing it..."

Furihata paused. Then, he almost bursted out laughing in relief. 

Sakurai doesn't know that I'm Furiha Kou! So he doesn't know that I--ashamedly--ship everyone I know and draw oneshots about Imayoshi getting gangbanged by an entire school because I can’t stand him--everything’s going to be fine, unless someone gives away that I’m Furiha Kou.

"He goes by Furiha Kou." Haizaki interjected from the side, raising an eyebrow, "Do you know him by any chance?"

…

Damn it, Haizaki.

The water bottle dropped to the floor and Sakurai’s mouth turned into an “o”. 

A transparent liquid subsequently gushed out of the bottle, and a couple of passengers curiously glanced at it as the owner bent down to clean it up with a quick apology. As he reached for a napkin to dab the water stains with, Sakurai looked up at Furihata and smirked. 

“...I thought you looked strange at Maji Burgers when we talked about him.” He said, “So it’s not just me being paranoid about how every character looked like someone I know, especially the creepy antagonists.”

Furihata wanted to bury himself alive.

“Makes sense, though--Furiha Kou, Furihata Kouki.” Sakurai scooted closer to the other brunette, still smiling, “So, then, do you and Akashi--”

The Seirin boy’s hands shot up to cover his ears as a gossipy grin climbed onto Sakurai’s usually apologetic face. 

LA LA LA LA LA, nope, he can’t hear anything, LA LA LA LA.

Sitting on the other side, the oldest teen squinted his eyes, confused by this whole display:“So wait, do you know him?”

The Touou student huffed. “Well, you might as well ask an American if they knew who Beyonce was--of course I do! Furiha Kou, the rising star of school boy romance, the ultimate experimenter, the creative genius who blurs realism and fantasy, making real life more exciting with his works--"

“Stop it!” Furihata cried.

“Is he famous?”

“Of course!”

“Oh wow!” Haizaki’s his eyes lit up, “So I’m not the only one who thinks he’s amazing?”

“Of course not!” Sakurai grinned. He wagged his eyebrow at the previous Seirin point guard, "I’m a big fan!"

"B-B-BUT!" Furihata cried, "Y-You didn’t say anything when we sat around in a circle while everyone talked of beating me up!"

Sakurai jolted up from the floor, and suddenly looked like he was going to cry.

"S-S-SORRY I COULDN’T STAND UP FOR YOU!" he made a 90 degree bow, to no specific person in a moving train, to the other brunette's alarm, "Y-You know how Aomine was! I was scared out of my mind that he'd hurt me if he found out, so I couldn't say a thing to support you--” 

Haizaki’s smile froze. 

“...You were there when those fucking rainbowheads threatened him, yet didn’t stand up for him even though you’re in the same situation?” he hissed slowly, giving the Touou student a glare that would have sent Satan running back to his mommy as he did so, “what are you, a wimp?”

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Furihata hurriedly tried to pull Sakurai up from his bowing position, giving Haizaki a disapproving look in the process, “It couldn’t be helped anyway! The awkward situation already happened, not to mention that you, of all people, had nothing to do with it in the first place! That comment wasn't even directed at you!”

“Really…?”

“Yep!” Furihata narrowed his gaze at the older teen again, who shrugged and picked up his manga. When the other brunette finally sat back in his seat, condition stable, the Seirin point guard inquired: "So...What name do you go by in the business, Sakurai-kun?"

Wiping his tears, the other brunette chuckled. "Guess."

"Uh...Ryo Sakura?"

"Hmm...Nope, love her works but I'm not her. Even though we do have very close names and...somewhat? similar styles."

"huh." Furihata blinked, "...Saku Rai?"

"I don't know who that is--try again. Here's a hint: I do a couple of manga based off of the Generation of Miracles as well, though not as many as you do."

Furihata knitted his eyebrows together as he tried to recall any individual with names like Sakurai's. Sakugyo Ryouai? No...That person almost exclusively does Guro and Scat Teletubby doujins (don’t search that up, and don’t ask where he finds these things), and is confirmed to be a woman in her late 40s with 3 children, which leaves…

No, Sakurai can’t possibly be that stupid.

"...Sakurai-kun,” Furihata asked hesitantly, ready to slap himself over his stupidity anytime now, “you don't actually...go by ‘Sakurai Ryou’, right?"

"Bingo!" Sakurai replied.

WHAT.

He awkwardly scratched his head, "Wow, I'm surprised you read my works!” He said touchedly, I’m nowhere as talented as you are--my sales are abysmal, and I can’t even treat myself to meat with the amount I make per week...I have no idea why I'm even invited to this, to be honest."

Well, if you ask Furihata, he’s actually quite talented. Sakurai Ryou’s art style is unique--if not a bit strange at first glance--but it works absolute wonders when expressing a character’s feelings and personality the way words cannot. His stories have a tendency to fall back on stereotypes and cliches yet the unique art style, background, emotional buildup and the little nuances always place the reader at the scene and give each series an interesting kick. More than once, Furihata found himself completely engrossed in the other’s works even though he knew exactly what would happen by the second page. 

That’s pretty impressive, and something Furihata tried (and failed) to emulate in his own works.

(However, to be honest; since his plots are so basic and foreseeable, his works don’t really leave much of an impression. It does its job at making you happy, but they’re the type of manga that you’d find on a manga hosting site, read for free, and enjoy but will be reluctant to pay for. 

Here, for example:

Aomine-sensei is a history teacher at a local high school, and Wakamatsu-sensei is a gym teacher working at the same place. The two appear to be drastically different, but--! They have one thing in common that’s very relevant to the plot, and what is it?

They’re both gay! 

And of course, the two kinda bonded over that. The story began with drunk Aomine bitching in Wakamatsu’s house about how his boyfriend dumped him for a woman. At the top of his lungs, Aomine screamed “just you watch, my ass definitely feels tighter than hers” before he, unable to hold it back anymore, broke down and cried. 

Now what did Wakamatsu, the good seme, do? Of course he went to comfort his uke. 

And of course, by “comfort” he meant “offering up my body even though no one asked for it”.

Horrified, Aomine rejected the deal and hooked up with someone else the next day. Wakamatsu was upset about this, and was very awkward about his disapproval; he and Aomine proceed to have this big, cuss-filled screaming match in front of the whole school, and for a couple of weeks, Aomine went out with the guy he hooked up with while refusing to talk to Wakamatsu at school.

Why were they not fired? Manga Logic. Now, what happened next? 

Some good old misunderstanding and drama, of course!

Aomine’s ignoring Wakamatsu, but he’s also silently stalking him because he loves him. One day, after school, he finds a female student handing Wakamatsu a letter and gets stupidly jealous. He confronts Wakamatsu, and as he gets more and more emotional talking about the other’s “sins”, Wakamatsu shuts him up by forcing a kiss. Aomine then realizes that it’s Wakamatsu that he loves. 

Wakamatsu then confesses, and the two have sex a panel later in the storage room. The story ends with a closeup of the female student’s letter, which, unbeknown to Aomine, says “Wakamatsu-sensei, would it behoove you two to resolve your sexual tension and get a room already”?

End.)

(Oh man, now that he thought more about it Sakurai didn’t even bother to change the names of his main characters…he just used different Kanji. Why isn’t he the one that got found out by the rainbowheads instead?)

Sure, the guy could work a bit on how gay sex actually works (possibly "experiment" a bit more with himself) and play with more types of relationship dynamics--but otherwise, Sakurai Ryou’s style and characterization could very well grow into a branch of its own. 

But wait, that’s not what he’s concerned about here!

"Are you nuts?" Furihata stared incredulously, earning a raised eyebrow from Haizaki as well, "Using your real name? Aren't you afraid that those guys in your school will find out? Especially Aomine-kun?"

Sakurai guiltily chuckled. "I didn't know anything, okay? I got into this industry when I was really young. Like, my first year in middle school young--because my mom works in this publishing firm, and don't ask why she's fine with her son drawing men doing it each other, I don’t know--but anyway, the young I was adamant on using my real name, even though my mom advised against it. I don't know why in retrospect but eh, it's not a big deal."

"Why didn't you change it?" Furihata said.

"I thought about it, but nah, not worth it." Sakurai shrugged, "I don't want to risk confusing my fans, however little there might be. Plus, as I had come to learn over the years, people aren't as smart as you think they are."

Furihata was unconvinced.

"Look, 'Furiha Kou' isn't that different from 'Furihata Kouki', right?” Sakurai chuckled, meekly, “If this is a manga we'd be screwed, but...I’m guessing no one has suspected you out of nowhere yet, right? No one has suspected me either--I mean, this is real life after all, where coincidences happen. One time Aomine literally brought in a gangbang book I made with Imayoshi-san as the main character, and started laughing about how much the author's name resembled mine. I never denied anything, but it never crossed Aomine-kun's mind in the first place that I might be the author of that book--”

Furihata was still unconvinced.

“Granted, Aomine Daiki is a special level of stupid, but my point still stands.”

The train slowly eased itself into the station as the two talked back and forth. With a jolt it finally stopped, and a classy voice informed the passengers that they have arrived at their destination. Some of the passengers rose upon this cue to retrieve their bags, towering over those that remained seated. However, Furihata pulled on Haizaki's shirt when the elder tried to do the same--subtly suggesting that he sit down for now.

After a majority of the people had left the vehicle, Sakurai grabbed the backpack sitting beneath his feet and stood up. Refusing Haizaki's help, Furihata, too, managed to pull his backpack from the top container all on his own. He wobbled a little as the surprisingly heavy weight fell on him (must be all these giveaways he's packing), and Haizaki offered to help again, but Furihata shook his head with a smile. Standing beside them, Sakurai wordlessly observed the two. 

As they exited the train with the last of the passengers, the Touou student pulled Furihata closer and whispered--his voice was slow and hesitant at first, as if he didn't know whether he should speak: "...Hey, Furihata-kun, can I ask you a...somewhat personal question?"

“Uh…” 

The addressed hesitated before replying:

“...sure, what is it?"

The Touou shooter shot a quick glance at Haizaki before turning back to Furihata. “U-uh,” he stuttered nervously, “y-you don’t have to answer this if you really don’t want to, but, uh...I mean, I’m curious, since you turned out to be Furiha-sensei and all--” 

Sakurai paused, and Haizaki turned his head back to give the two a curious glance; the older teen had headed on before them, keeping enough distance to give the two mangakas some private space without losing sight of them. 

Eventually Haizaki turned his head back, and Sakurai let out the breath he had been holding all this time. He continued, voice still shaky with hesitation: “I mean, uhh...i-if you really drew these works, and they feature couples you think should be together, then…um...you and A--, um, I mean...”

“What is it?” Furihata pretended to encourage, even though he’s getting a bad feeling about this, “D-Don’t be afraid…”

“I...I won’t tell anyone--this is just for curiosity, I promise!”

“O-Okay…Y-You're scaring me, Sakurai-kun...”

“I-I-I just want to know y-y-you and t-that guy....”

“W-what guy?”

Sakurai opened his mouth, but quickly bit his lips and turned his head away. 

After some thought, the Touou student sighed, stayed silent for a while, and, with a vague pout, turned his head back. He eventually asked“...Do you genuinely think that Aomine-kun's a uke, even when paired with me?" 

...Huh?

Realizing something incriminating in what he had just said, the other brunette widened his eyes before shaking his head vehemently. "N-not that I’m especially ukeish or anything! You drew a manga with me as the seme to Aomine, right? Although he’s not the person I like the most I… I'm just surprised that someone would share my appreciation for Bottom!Aomine!"

Ahh, ships.

A nice, peaceful way to start a conversation.

"Well...not a total uke but", Furihata chuckled, a dark grin climbing onto his face, "I personally feel that everyone’s exaggerating how tough the guy is. I mean, that childish temper, that tendency to misrepresent people's intentions, that high-and-mighty attitude for god's sake--I mean, he works pretty well as a tsundere too, don’t ya think?"

"I know right?” The Touou student looked down for a second, before he shrugged and lit up again at Furihata's words, “The guy reiterates at every opportunity he gets that he LOOOOVES breasts--even makes it a point to bring Horitaka Mai's magazine everywhere he goes, regardless of whether he even has an opportunity to look at it in the middle of practice--but can’t keep his eyes away when there's a good looking guy around! Like, did you see his face when he played against Kise?”

“That borderline orgasmic expression?”

“Did he not ignore the existence of every other human being, including his teammates, when that blonde was on the court? And not only that--do you have any idea how much Aomine talks about him and Kuroko off the court? It would have darn annoying if I didn't ship them, but...well, anyway, I’ve heard the story about how Kise joined the basketball because of him at least 50 times this year, and that's a conservative estimate, considering that I'm in his class...yet he keeps insisting that Mai-chan’s his goddess and Kise’s just an annoying dog! I feel bad for Kise just listening to his denial!”

“Oh wow,” Furihata’s eyes widened with surprised, and he laughed, “he’s really trying to push his ‘manly’ image, isn’t he? It looks like he using girls as a facade for his real sexuality--which, as the older brother of two females, is a little bit of a crappy thing to do. But seriously, this guy still thinks he’s the top of the top with so much denial?”

The other brunette sighed. “Forgive him, Furihata-kun. Everything about him just screams 'uke in denial'. But hey, if he still insists that ‘no one can top me except for me’, I mean… What can we do?" Sakurai winked innocently, “We all know what happens to guys who say that--right?"

The two brunettes simultaneously smirked. 

\--

Aomine suddenly shivered in the middle of Kyoto. It’s spring, and combined with how his anus suddenly started itching as well this is anything but a good omen--given, ya know, where he’s about to go. Suspicious, he jostled the redhead sitting to the right of him. “Kagami,” He grunted, “you better not be badmouthing me to these burgers.”

Cheeks stuffed, Kagami turned towards him and stared confusedly as he chomped on a pancake..

Kuroko frowned. “Aomine-kun.” he asked, putting his cup down on the red and white tablecloth, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” The tanned male sighed irritatedly, slinging his hand over the back of his chair and rocking himself back and forth, “just a bit bothered with the bloody wanker we’re going to be beating up today.”

The light-haired male sighed and sipped his chocolate milkshake (because they didn’t have vanilla). “We are not going to beat anyone up today, Aomine-kun.” He said disapprovingly, shaking his head, “The most we’re going to get is a conversation.”

“B-but Tetsu! Aren’t you pissed off at how that bastard turned us into gay anime porn?”

“Well, I don’t mind, really.” Kuroko shrugged, shaking his cup to get the last bit of milkshake, “it’s not illegal to base stories off of people you know, and the art’s done well. I’m impressed. Plus I don’t think Akashi’s dad will be okay with us tarnishing his event for such an inconsequential reason.”

Aomine deflated. “Oh yeah, that makes sense.” He admitted, “Although--can you believe that Akashi’s dad actually looked like...you know, that? I thought he’d be some sort of scary dude with flaming red hair, breathing down Akashi’s neck.”

“He was much nicer than I thought he’d be, although I’m a little crept out by the how hard he’s trying to make conversation with people less than half his age. Still, I don’t think it’s done out of ill intentions.”

“He even let us into the kitchen.”

“Yes. However, I didn’t like the way the cooks cried in front of Kagami-kun’s face.”

The redhead’s head flipped over at the sound of his name, and, upon seeing his current light, the light-haired male let out an indulgent smile. Aomine felt a twinge of jealousy for no reason at all.

“Well, I’d react the same way if someone came into my house and depleted a week’s worth of ingredients in one meal, and still said it wasn’t enough.” he argued as he flopped onto the table with a thud, earning a glare from Kagami before turning back to eat some more pancakes. Aomine snorted, “Hey hey Tetsu, so you think Akashi the older can pull some strings and get Furiha-sensei in trouble if he knew his son’s featured in gay anime porn?” 

“Once again, I’m afraid I do not understand your hatred towards Furiha-sensei, Aomine-kun. I don’t really object to being portrayed this way.”

Blinking, Aomine’s brain froze for a second before his jaw dropped. Jumping out of his chair, he screamed and pointed accusedly at the smaller teen. “W-wait a second!” He awkwardly coughed out, in an attempt to calm himself, “Y-you’re not really, uh…”

Kuroko rolled his eyes. “Sit down, Aomine-kun.” He said.

The tanned male wanted to say something more, but one glare from Kuroko shut him up and he obediently returned to his seat. When he sat down, the shorter teen snapped: “I might be homosexual, I might not be. Deal with it. And stop acting like a middle schooler, Aomine-kun--it’s not the end of the world, no one will think less of YOU for it.” 

“Uh…” Aomine glanced around nervously, before leaning in and whispering, “U-uh, you know, if you keep on saying things like that I might...I might get the wrong idea, you know? Like, I might think that you find me attractive or something, HAHA--”

“I’m not particularly bothered by your insinuation.”

“I-I!” A blush climbed onto Aomine’s face, before he quickly turned away and huffed, “W-well you should! I-I-I am the straightest of the s-straights, and I’d never prefer you, or Kagami, or Kise over Mai-chan! I d-d-don’t even find you guys hot! Nope, not at all!”

Kagami finished his pile of burgers and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Glancing in the direction of the windows, he signaled toward the figure with a nudge of his head. “Hey,” he whispered, “Is Takao okay?”

There sat the Shuutoku point guard, quietly nursing a can of red bean soup as he forlornly looked out the glass window; some boys and girls waddled by, giggling on the street across from him, and, occasionally, one would stop and flourish their chubby hands at him. When this happened the teen always forced a smile and waved back, but when the kids turn away, his face fell back into the pure blankness as the world of silence returns.

He dangled his legs on a tall chair by the window. It’s a beautiful morning on a beautiful day, even though some glass-clad buildings blocked the sun from shining through, and rendered the street a cool grey; beneath them, a silver Toyota sedan drove in from the left of his view, and a white Honda followed behind it. Both passed by a rainbow-colored sign that read “YaoiCon this way! 8=D.” in bold, Word Art font, and Takao stared at the words for a very long time before finally turning down to look at his phone instead.

Most people have cute animals, designs, or selfies set as their phone wallpaper. Aomine has Mai-chan, Kuroko has Nigou, Kagami--as you’d expect--has a basketball, and Takao’s desktop was Midorima.

“The guy was so intent on coming with us, but he hasn’t spoken a word with us the second we left Akashi’s house.” Aomine complained, pushing his cheeks up as he leaned into his hand, “Hah, can this guy get any more awkward.”

Kagami nodded. “What’s with him ignoring Midorima, too? It’s so strange seeking these two separate and not together,” the tiger said, “Maybe it’s just me, but I’m not used to this.”

“Both Aomine-kun and Kagami-kun are stupid.” Kuroko stated.

“Hey!” 

The two taller males simultaneously glared at Kuroko, who pushed aside his milkshake cup and sighed. “Well, granted, Takao-kun’s not much smarter.” the small teen lamented, “He should know better than to act like a first grader and run from his problems instead of dealing with them head on.”

“What do you mean, Tetsu?” Aomine asked.  
“Midorima-kun’s at fault too,” Kuroko continued, “though I will give him a break since he’s never been good with his feelings--I don’t proclaim to know what’s going on in his head, but it’s pretty obvious that there’s some mismatch going on among them.”

“O-oi, Kuroko!” Kagami waved a hand in front of the smaller’s face, “can you explain to us what’s going on!”

Kuroko promptly ignored him.

“Still, Takao-kun is being childish and hurting Midorima-kun. I had thought that he would be the smarter one out of the two, but I suppose that they’re matched in their awkwardness...I wonder if Akashi-kun would be the first notice something wrong here.”

“Kagami, I don’t think Tetsu’s hearing us here…”

“Yeah, he’s a bit lost in his own world.”

“Maybe not, since he can be incredibly stupid as well--ah, it feels quite pleasant to finally say that without him watching me--but oh, it looks like a lot of people are stupid around me. Or maybe I’m the one that’s stupid and not making any sense here.” 

“Beep, Beep, Earth to Kuroko: We have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about here.”

“Be quiet, Kagami-kun.” Kuroko stated as he grabbed his backpack, “Someone out there does.”

The three walked to the cash register to pay for their meal, and Aomine averted his eyes from the bill as to not get a heart attack; in the process, he observed that Takao was still sitting by the window, blankly staring. For a second the tanned male wondered whether he should call out the Shuutoku point guard, but decided to let him be--after all, he looked like he had a lot to think about.

“You know,” Kuroko mused aloud as the three walked out of the restaurant, “I wonder what sort of character Furiha-sensei would make out of Haizaki-kun if he knew him.”

Aomine snorted. “What sort of character? I’d be darn surprised if he’s anything but a dog-humping antagonist.”

 

\--

Maybe it’s the sweat that he has accumulated in the short way between the train and the station, or maybe the air conditioning’s too strong in the limestone building, or maybe it’s the fact that the supposedly innocent Furihata had just made him feel bad for Aomine Daiki, of all people, but Haizaki was actively shivering as he walked into the train station. 

“Wow.” was all he could think of as the most stereotypical “welcome to Kyoto” sign came into view, “I’m really here. For a manga convention.”

Unbeknownst to Furihata and Sakurai, the elder male had slipped his attention away from them (He left when they started discussing whether three dildos can fit in Aomine’s anus or not) and into the dense crowd of people, too busy grinning at the “I <3 Yaoi” signs and chuckling at references to somewhat eclectic yaoi mangas to pay attention to exactly what they’re going. Within a couple of minutes, his thoughts had languidly wandered across the alabaster floor, watching with mild interest as a couple individuals of the older generation fumbled with their phones, trying to find out what this “yaoi” is. 

He tried not to snicker as Grandpa’s face paled with terror and Grandma’s eyes glowed.

To be honest, he didn’t think that he’s the type attend these things. He hated the annoying girls, the screaming, the way people dressed up to be someone else--or so he thought. 

But now that he’s actually here, he’s pretty excited. It’s surprisingly nice to have other people like what you like.

Ah, that kid’s along and holding a rainbow-coloured unicorn. She has such pretty black eyes. They’re familiar somehow...oh no, there’s a bandaid over one of them, what happened? 

Haizaki turned around to ask Furihata for his opinion and found him talking heatedly with the other kid, probably arguing over some ship and completely ignoring his existence. They looked like they were having fun and, again, for the fifteenth time today (he counted), Haizaki questioned why he’s even here. Sure, Furiha-sensei needed a bodyguard, but why bring him? Aren’t there better people he could ask instead of some gangster looking punk?

Yes, Furihata’d say that he’s not a “gangster-looking” punk and that he’s selling himself short, but Haizaki knows better. They don’t argue, mostly because Furihata’s pretty insistent on being “polite”, but they’re not that close either--they get along well, have a couple of things in common, but that’s it. Nothing more.

Maybe you’d say this will change as they get to know each other, but--how does he say this?-- there’s no spark between them. They don’t hate each other’s guts, but…

Look how happy he is with the other kid. They just met. 

He’s never this happy with Haizaki.

Ya know, to think that Furihata’s actually Furiha Kou, and that he’s actually dating his sensei all this time feels a bit unreal. You might be thinking that Haizaki’s lucky, and maybe he is, but...  
It’s so unreal he doesn’t know how to feel--After all, your favorite manga writer’s supposed to be someone you admire from afar, someone your check up on every week, not someone you see and smell and touch everyday. You’re supposed to love them in secret, support them, and buy their works even though they don’t know who you are and you don’t know (or care) what they look like:

“Big brother?” The little girl asked, tugging at his shirt.

That knocked Haizaki out of his thoughts. He turned his head downwards to properly face the little girl, but as soon as he did so, the girl started crying. 

What the--

Just as some passersby started to glare at him, a familiar face walked by. Briefly, for maybe a second, familiar black eyes meet grey. His hair got longer, Haizaki noted with unusual calm, but he was still recognizable.

Wait, was that?

Haizaki abruptly turned his head around to find that person again; however, he didn’t see anything this time. Ignoring the little girl, he instinctively rotated his body a bit further toward the direction he thought the person went in and cried out:

“Wait!”

The girl beside him started crying even harder, and a couple more faces turned to stare at him in surprise, but none of them was the one he saw.

“Haizaki-kun.” Furihata’s voice came from behind him, a little worried as chocolate scanned the environment, “Are you okay? We lost you for a second--and oh hey, who are you? Are you lost?”

In the background, the other teen’s voice grew louder and caught up with him. “Excuse me?” He screamed, “Do you think that just because Aomine’s dick is bigger and his hole is a bit softer than Kagami’s that he is incapable of--"

“They can switch, god damn it, now shut up!” Haizaki hissed. Grey eyes widened as perspiration built up and he tried to find that person again. “Nijimura…” he breathily asked, talking to no one in particular “is that you?”

“Eh? You found someone you knew?”

There’s no way that he would hear him, even if, by some odd streak of fate, that they’re here at the same time; an ocean of people surrounded them, gushing and shoveling all around, drowning them out. Every second, some newly-arrived traveler blocked some aspect of his view, and Haizaki turned his head anxiously, waiting for some sort of response.

Soon, it became clear that no one was going to respond.

Haizaki sighed, and resigned to take care of the little girl first. However, just as he was about to give up, one of the individual specks in the ocean turned back towards him. 

“Haizaki?” Nijimura Shuuzou asked, more shocked than confused as their eyes met, “What are you doing in Kyoto?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: There is an actual Yaoi Mangaka named Sakurai Ryou. Google it--that's where I got the inspiration from.
> 
> Reading my previous chapters, I feel that my quality of writing has gone down drastically down these past few months ;-;.
> 
> Anyway, I apologize for the long wait and will reiterate, again--the quality might not be consistent, but I will not give up. Thank you for reading up to this point, and please feel free to leave any thoughts, criticisms, or suggestions in a review!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my humble Fanfic! Please tell me if you have any criticism because honestly, I haven't written fanfic in a while and isn't really sure on how to make things better. But if you have any compliments or suggestions, please throw them my way!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Reading Fanmail](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5605156) by [treerose61](https://archiveofourown.org/users/treerose61/pseuds/treerose61)
  * [The Lone Emperor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7447747) by [CellionKagamine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CellionKagamine/pseuds/CellionKagamine)




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